


The Shining Beacon (Year 3)

by CocksAndClocks



Series: The Shining Beacon [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: M/M, Multi, Pining, Pre-Canon, Qrow is as angsty as he was in Year 1 but for very different reasons, Qrow is in massive denial, Qrow shenanigans increase, Slow Build, Slow Burn, and Ozpin is oblivious, because Qrow is still a student and Ozpin has morals, the Vytal Festival is coming, the slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-05-24 16:36:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 83,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14958197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CocksAndClocks/pseuds/CocksAndClocks
Summary: By their third year, Team STRQ finally operates on a united front. Faced with Ozpin's secrets about the world, the forces acting to destroy it, and the trials of school and young adulthood, the team will come to trust each other more than ever. Meanwhile, Qrow deals with his own personal demons, his first romance, and the horror of his sister dating his best friend.Updates every weekend (to the very best of our ability)!





	1. In which Qrow wrestles with emerging demons and Team STRQ is faced with the truth of the world

Autumn brought the return of students to Beacon Academy, fresh-faced first-years and seasoned fourth years alike, pushing themselves through impatient crowds to reach the great hall first – the older students for a good place to stand to hear the headmaster’s speech or to find old friends, the younger following in wide-eyed perplexity at the sudden change in environment. 

Qrow did not fit into any of these categories. 

He had spent a good portion of his break not knowing what to do with himself and this newfound pit in his stomach. The dreams, the nightmares. The intense focus of overwhelming emptiness. Nothing he did seemed to fill the void - fighting, adventuring, socializing.

All seemed to fall flat.

This feeling was not one he was accustomed to, and it certainly was not welcome. 

It was another week, when he had an extended meeting with the headmaster, before he finally pin-pointed the feeling.

Qrow had a crush. An annoying, cumbersome, and wholly pathetic crush. A schoolboy crush. Something stupid teenagers got.

Granted he was both a teenager and a schoolboy, but that was hardly the point.

The point was, he had never fallen into the patterns of social norms. He had never conformed. He had never had a freakin’ crush.

Not unless he counted Sapphire – which, of course, he didn’t.

Ugh. 

_Crush._

Even the word was unfair. It teased with the promise of violent entertainment, instead producing an ill feeling that consumed mind and body.

If he could act on it, or hell, even if it made sense, he would be okay. 

But _him?_

Beacon Academy's _headmaster?_

Qrow had to kick this soon.

Like _yesterday_ soon.

If only he knew how.

Between having to regularly report to the headmaster for private missions… then, fuck… what he’d learned on those missions…

So it was nightmares about Grimm, or nightmares about Ozpin.

Finding himself lacking a reasonable course of action, Qrow got drunk. 

Not normal drunk - sloppy, messy, uncoordinated drunk for twenty-four hours, during which he decided to test his sniper abilities with clay plates from the kitchen. Taiyang was only too happy to be his "Pull!" partner, until he realized they had been destructing stolen school property. Not that he remembered to complain after the shared shots of liquor.

The following day, Qrow attempted to hit on the nearest short skirted freshman too young to know his reputation.

She picked up on his tactless hangover in ten minutes and slapped him almost unconscious.

Seriously, her semblance had to be super strength or something.

Three weeks Qrow spent in variations of tipsy, fish-bowling, and flat-out alcoholic drunk. Three weeks he spent avoiding Ozpin. Three weeks he spent hanging around outside of the Academy away from the headmaster's influence.

Three weeks the pit grew.

And now Ozpin had officially summoned the student to his office in guise of a polite request - realistically an official demand. Qrow could no longer ignore it.

He heaved a heavy sigh, his feet growing denser with each doomed step up to the headmaster's office. 

And yet another, unexpected, side effect began to encompass the boy. His heart began racing in his chest, his breathing became shorter, his mind foggier with memories of Ozpin dressed as the king in blue, his arms around Qrow, his lips – 

_Shit. What the fuck is wrong with me?_

Qrow had to think of something else, and he had to do it fast.

The elevator doors pinged, announcing his arrival before Qrow even realized he’d hit the button. 

_Shit. He was at the top already?!_ Qrow couldn’t even recall getting _into_ the elevator, much less crossing the courtyard – time he’d wish he had to come up with a cover – and entering the damn box of doom.

Ozpin half-faced the panoramic window, his scroll in hand, skimming the device with one thumb, absently lifting his mug to his lips.

_His lips._

Qrow shook the memories from his eyes, clearing his throat as he cautiously approached the desk. After all, Ozpin still had no idea Qrow was the mysterious pirate from the Historical Masquerade.

“Ah, there you are,” Ozpin said, offering a smile as he looked up. “Good morning, Qrow, and welcome to your third year. I’m happy to see you after such a long absence.”

“I’m - “ _happy to see you? A ball of nerves? Slowly driving myself crazy thinking about your goddamned lips?_ “S-same,” he finished, taking his seat before his knees gave out.

The separation of summer had not made things any easier. Within seconds of being in Ozpin’s presence, Qrow felt the warm feelings in his gut flutter. 

_It’s just a stupid crush,_ he thought, again and again.

“Please, sit.” The headmaster resumed his seat behind the desk, stealing one last sip of coffee before placing the mug beside him. He clasped his hands on the glass desktop. “Miss Rose tells me you’ve been quite busy with schoolwork and helping Mr. Xiao Long with his studies. She even informed me that your sister has volunteered to help tutor teammates. I confess that, while I missed our formerly frequent visits, I am very happy to hear how well your team has been operating.”

Qrow heard the words at a distance, his attention suddenly on the hands folded neatly before him. He remembered those hands, Livius Magna’s hands, after too many summer daydreams, the hands that once pulled him closer, clutching at his pirate coat –

“What?” he said, interrupting the cascade of unwanted thoughts. “Oh. Yeah.”

“I spoke with Miss Rose regarding your team’s level of cooperation, and she agreed that it may be time to bring in all your teammates on our…little secrets.” 

Ozpin chewed on his bottom lip for a moment – Qrow tried not to stare.

And failed.

_When did Ozpin get so fucking pretty?_

It was distracting as hell.

“I wanted your opinion, Qrow – on whether you feel you can trust your sister with such grave secrets, and whether Mr. Xiao Long is of a maturity to understand the gravity of them.”

Qrow exhaled in relief, releasing a tortured breath. Mention of his sister was, for once, a welcomed boner killer.

“I, ah… yeah, we’ve gotten real close over the break.” He slumped back into his chair finally at ease. “Raven’s close. She knows she needs us to survive now. You. She needs you to survive. And Summer. She knows she’s _special_. Tai…he’s an all for one, one for all type. He’ll go when he sees the rest of us are in.”

Ozpin nodded slowly. “That’s similar to what Miss Rose told me, and I am inclined to agree. I think, then, you and Miss Rose need to ask your team to stop by for a cup of coffee and some conversation.”

“ _Today?_ ”

“…if you think that would be best. I am at your service at any time you feel is appropriate. This is a priority for me.”

 _’At your service…’ God damn it, Ozpin. Do you realize what you’re doing to me?_

Qrow clenched his fist, drilling it into his thigh.

“Yeah. Now’s good. If Raven has a problem, I’ll bring her around.” 

_There. Boner killer strikes again._

“Very well. Then I’ll keep my schedule open today. Please let Miss Rose know that she has our approval to bring your team up at your earliest convenience. Perhaps after Mr. Xiao Long finishes his homework.”

“Sounds good,” Qrow said rising from his chair. “I’ll gather the troops and be back,” he added with exaggerated bow, saluting his exit. 

_See? Totally doable. Business as usual. Casual. Functioning._

“See ya, Liv-“ Qrow cut off the damning name, paling, smile faltering as the doors slid shut. 

“Later,” he finished, slapping his hand over his face the moment the doors sealed him in safety.

The first conversation with Ozpin since Qrow’s big epiphany, and he already almost ruined everything. He’d congratulate himself on surviving, but there were other conversations, other private lessons, a thousand opportunities for Qrow to screw himself over.

And with Qrow’s luck, it would happen sooner than later.

_Well, fuck._

***

Team STRQ sat in a semi-circle in front of Ozpin’s desk, all four in various positions of attention: Raven, seated against the back of her chair, arms crossed and eyes narrowed; Taiyang, leaned forward, eyes wide; Summer, her hands on her knees, darting quick glances at her unaware teammates; and Qrow, slouching, listening with downcast eyes to Ozpin retelling secrets he already knew.

Ozpin had asked them all to remain silent until he was done, and they had, the only noise from Taiyang, as though he could not believe what the headmaster was saying.

There was every reason to doubt Ozpin’s wild stories, as he recounted them in his quietly accented voice; the stories of wizards bequeathing magic onto young women – young women who passed on their magic like heirlooms; a dark witch who lived in the darkest parts of the world, creating Grimm to hunt humanity and Faunus alike; silver-eyed warriors with special abilities beyond Aura and Semblance; the careful, personal request of their professor and headmaster to aid him in saving the world.

Raven was impossible to read, arms stubbornly crossed as she listened, her eyes never leaving Ozpin’s face, as though looking for some tell that Ozpin was lying and could not find it. Taiyang, in contrast, clearly believed it all as it was said, his face a slideshow of surprise, shock, horror, agreement.

For thirty minutes they listened, until Ozpin sat back in his chair, picking up coffee long gone cold.

“I suppose you have questions for me,” he said. “I will answer them all to the best of my ability.”

“Why should we believe you?” Raven said immediately. 

“Raven!” Tai said, shooting her a cautious look. “He’s _Professor Ozpin.”_

“Some of us don’t blindly follow our teachers,” Raven retorted. “Not without proof.”

Ozpin’s eyes moved – only for an instant, but Summer was certain he looked at Qrow. 

“Have some coffee, Miss Branwen.”

“I told you the first time I don’t want – “

“Raven, try the damn coffee,” Qrow said.

Raven paused, red eyes narrowing at her twin. She leaned forward to the untouched mug before her, lifting it and peering down. 

Her expression finally shifted – from distrust to disbelief.

When she turned the mug upside down, a handful of back feathers drifted to the floor.

Taiyang’s eyes doubled in size.

Ozpin smiled. “Magic, you see, is all around us, if we know where to look.”

“What the hell does this mean?” Raven demanded.

“It means I am aware of the special talents you and your brother possess,” Ozpin said, “and I think we can be mutually beneficial.”

“You told him,” Raven said, turning on Qrow.

“No, I didn’t! He’s known for years, Raven,” Qrow snapped. 

“Well, if he did, it’s because you’re shit at keeping things quiet,” Raven said. “Getting drunk and stumbling around campus all the time – it’s a miracle more people don’t know.”

“I assure you,” the headmaster interrupted gently, “that I knew long before any of Mr. Branwen’s nightly flights. I have my spies, Miss Branwen, whose purpose is to know things. What I ask now is whether you would find it possible to be one yourself.”

“Spy,” Raven repeated flatly. “For you? On who? My tribe?”

“I have no interest in interfering with your tribe’s activities.”

Raven snorted. “That’s a lie.”

“Raven!” Qrow hissed.

“Now, now, Qrow, her mistrust is valid,” Ozpin said. “The reason that your tribe does no interest me, Miss Branwen, is because I already have enough information on their activities to persuade me that my time is better spent on those working for Salem.”

“So you’re saying we’re not a threat?” Raven said, indignant.

“That’s not what he means,” Summer said.

“With respect, Miss Rose,” Ozpin said quietly, “that is exactly what I mean.”

Raven fell silent, leaning back against her chair, her eyes finally dropping from Ozpin’s face, as though his answer both disrespected her and her tribe.

“Uh, sir,” Taiyang broke in. “Would it be possible for Raven’s tribe to, you know, work _with_ you?”

“How diplomatic,” Ozpin said, with a small smile. “I would not presume to make that decision myself, but I would extend it to the parties interested.”

Slowly, Raven’s eyes rose again.

“You’d work with thieves, Professor? That’s not beneath you?” Her voice dripped sarcasm.

“Perhaps I have not impressed upon you all the severity of the opposition I face,” Ozpin said. “Miss Branwen, my morality may not approve of the culture of your tribe, but I cannot oblige morality when we face death in every sense of the word.”

“I told you, Raven. We help out, or we die,” Qrow defended, tucking his arms securely across his chest.

“I don’t have to help anyone. And our- _MY_ tribe,” she glared pointedly at Qrow, “doesn’t need to get dragged into this. If we’re not a threat, we can go on with life as we know it. _Our way_ ,” she scowled at her twin.

“Until Salem blinks you out of existence faster ‘en you can realize she’s on the continent,” Qrow returned the scowl.

“Oh, and how would you know? You are just eating out of the palm of Ozp-“

“BECAUSE I’VE SEEN IT!” Qrow kicked off from his chair now pacing in front of the grand clocktower window.

Silence fell, heavy and oppressive. 

Ozpin broke it first.

“Mr. Branwen has been working for me in…a less official capacity for the last year,” he said. “I warned him the things he would see were…unnerving.”

“Unnerving how?” Raven asked.

“I haven’t seen it myself,” Summer broke in, “but I’ve seen what it did to Qrow.”

Raven and Tai looked at their teammate; Qrow turned his head, avoiding their gaze.

“When he came back from that mission, he was…different,” Summer said. “He barely ate. He didn’t sleep. He’d just leave the dorm at night and come back in the morning. At first I didn’t say anything, but…I was worried.”

“When was this?” Tai asked, looking suddenly concerned he hadn’t noticed his best friend’s mood.

“Just before summer break.”

“Hasn’t improved much over the summer,” Qrow mumbled, returning to his chair. 

“Is that why you’ve been drinking so much?” Tai asked, his voice quiet.

“Yeah,” Qrow said. “That and – mostly just that.”

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know.”

“That’s kinda the point, Tai.”

“Yeah, well. I’m still sorry.”

“The only one who needs to apologize for Salem is Salem,” Qrow said, finally meeting his friend’s eyes.

“And who is Salem?” Taiyang asked, darting nervous glances toward his team.

“Salem is…” Ozpin paused, adjusting his glasses. “Salem is a creature unlike man or Faunus. She carries the blood of Grimm within her, and through that power, she can create them at will.”

Taiyang went white. Even Raven’s stubborn stance slowly eased.

“She lives in a place where the sun simply does not reach,” the headmaster continued, his voice even, as though he had practiced this speech. Perhaps he had – Summer recognized the story from when he told her, and she wondered if Qrow had heard it like this as well.

“The land is black and the sky like violet blood. Plants cannot grow there. Animals flee from it. It breeds only Grimm, and fear itself.”

Despite hearing it before, Summer shivered at the description.

“How can that be?” Raven asked. “How can someone be part Grimm?”

“That is a story for another time,” Ozpin said. Summer caught the note of weariness, but within a moment it was gone, the headmaster smiling reassuringly. “She is a being from another time, when magic had more influence than it does now.”

“How do _you_ have magic?”

“My abilities have been passed down through generations,” Ozpin said. “But they dim with each new life. I use it when I can, when it is necessary, but it is not enough to stop Salem on my own.”

“That’s why you became headmaster of Beacon,” Raven said, as though the pieces began to click. “You’re using the school – to build an army.”

“Yes – and no. It is not my intention to force the Huntsman and Huntresses that graduate from Beacon to become loyal to me. I only ask that they do their job and protect those who cannot protect themselves. But I confess that when a group of particularly skilled students earn my attention…” Ozpin glanced at each of them. “I ask if those students might find it within themselves to work on classified missions, off the record.”

“That’s what you’re asking,” Raven said.

“Yes. I have the terms of such a contract here. Miss Rose and Mr. Branwen have already signed.” Ozpin tapped a button on his desk and the green monitors appeared over them, words glowing softly. “You and Mr. Xiao Long are under no obligation to sign. I only ask that you listen.”

Summer looked nervously at Raven and Tai, the former still skeptical, the latter pale.

For an eternity no one spoke, Ozpin reaching for his mug as though to avoid eye contact, Qrow still leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

“I think we should sign,” Taiyang said.

All eyes turned to him.

“…are you serious?” Raven asked.

“Come on, Raven, like we have a choice,” Tai said. “I mean, Professor Ozpin isn’t forcing us, but if this is all true, Salem is, isn’t she? Even if we don’t do this, she’s still gonna be out there. Grimm will still attack people. So, yeah. I think we should do it.”

Raven went quiet.

“You don’t have to,” Taiyang said. “But I’m going to help Qrow and Summer if I can.”

“Thank you, Mr. Xiao Long,” Ozpin said quietly. “Your selflessness does you a great credit.”

Taiyang spluttered, turning pink.

“All right, _fine,”_ Raven snapped. “I’ll sign the damn thing.”

“Thank you, Miss Br –“

“Under _one_ condition.”

Ozpin paused, his lips twitching. “I promise that I – and those working for me – will not interfere with your tribe.”

Raven made a face that was almost a pout, annoyed the headmaster could anticipate her request.

“Fine,” she said, tossing her hair back. “Let’s hear the terms, then.”

Ozpin smiled again, zooming in on one of the documents, and began to speak.

Summer sighed, relaxing into her chair at last. She had done it: she had convinced her entire team to join her cause – Ozpin’s cause – to try to save the world. It sounded almost silly, the four students, not yet twenty years old, being regarded as some sort of elite army. And maybe it was silly, she thought, but right now, with Raven and Tai listening intently, and Qrow brooding beside her, the secrets they all shared seemed grand beyond just them. 

Somehow, Summer knew this moment mattered.


	2. In which Team STRQ comes to terms with their position at Beacon, and is offered more responsibility, which goes terribly

Team STRQ didn’t speak as they filed out of the elevator, and then from the main hall. Raven kept her eyes to the ground but she felt Tai’s stare on her, the questions he didn’t say aloud. Naturally the depth of Ozpin’s secrets left them in their own heads, processing the significance of what Ozpin called the truth of the world, and their own involvement in his network of spies.

“Well, that was intense,” Taiyang, the first to break the silent stride back to Team STRQ’s shared dormitory, slumped onto his bed which mirrored his sigh.

“I’m sorry guys. I…wanted to tell you.” Summer’s head hung in unfounded guilt.

“It’s not your fault, Summer. It’s Ozpin’s. He’s the one with all the spies.” Raven glowered at her twin. They had never shared the fantasy ‘one mind in two bodies,’ but they had an understanding: you do what you need to in order to survive. Qrow was the only other person she trusted to do _whatever_ it took to survive. Nothing was excluded, and they both knew this: it was the very source of their sibling bond.

And yet here he was, handing precious information over on a silver fucking platter to someone else. 

Someone else who was, at the time of their admittance to Beacon, their declared enemy.

What did Qrow have to gain? They could have lived in seclusion of the tribe, they could have…

Raven’s eyes wondered over to Summer, then rested on Taiyang. Grinding her teeth, she punched the nearest bed post, knocking the upper mattress crooked.

“How could you do this, Qrow?” she asked slowly, evenly.

“Do what? Want to live?” he snapped sarcastically, sauntering into the room last, and kicking the door shut as he opened his flask.

Drinking. Again. 

_When had he become so weak?_

“Backstab us. All of us. The team. The tribe.” _Me._

“Raven, damn it. It’s not one or the other. We need him. I told you why. You know why - “

“I do!” she roared. “But working for him doesn’t mean telling him everything and leaving _us_ with no advantages.”

“Wake up! He doesn’t give a shit about us. The tribe isn’t even on his radar - “

“That’s what I’m afraid of!” 

Silence fell on the room. Raven scraped her hands over her face, wishing she could pull her hair out.   
How many times had they had this conversation? How many _more_ times were they going to have this conversation? Why couldn’t her twin just listen?

Why couldn’t he be more like her?

“He doesn’t care about us, Qrow. No one does. That’s why we have to look out for ourselves. And that doesn’t mean running into danger for some puppet master sitting behind a desk too scared to get his hands dirty himself.”

“Raven…Ozpin’s tried by himself,” Summer said, stroking her teammate’s shoulder reassuringly. “He can’t…he can’t do it alone. No one can. And if we do nothing. Well, that’s why we have to do something.”

“Yeah. I signed the damn thing, didn’t I?” The lone chair creaked in distress against the weight Raven sank into the old wood. “I’m just…just pissed off.”

“Why?” Taiyang asked, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, replacing Summer’s affection with his own.

Raven wanted to shrug it all away - to be strong, to stand alone, but found no energy. She’d been fighting a losing battle with Qrow since they stepped foot on the damned academy grounds.

“I didn’t tell him anything about you. Or me. Or the tribe.” Qrow’s explanation came short, unexpected, but concise. 

“Then how did he _know_?” 

“He told you. He wasn’t lying. He’s got spies. Sure. But they sure as fuck aren’t interested in us. They’re interested in keeping humans and Faunus alive. That’s it. No secret goals. No great mystery.”

_Ugh._ Raven pinched the bridge of her nose, willing her growing migraine into oblivion. “Alright. I said I would do it, and I will. I’m just not going to die doing so. Got it?”

The returned gaze was a hard glare above tightly crossed arms, and a chest primed for a fight.

_So he was pissed too?_

“Now what?” she asked dryly.

“How did Tai know?”

“Know what?”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “The bird thing, dumbass.”

“’Cause I told him.”

“What the fuck, Raven?”

“It’s none of your business who I date.”

Qrow paled, words stolen, at last giving Raven a reason to smirk. He turned a horrified stare from sister to best friend.

“Dude, look, I wanted to tell you - “ Raven felt Taiyang’s hands leave her back as he gestured defensively.

Raven watched her brother’s reactions flutter between shock, bewilderment, betrayal, and abandonment.

_So he really didn’t know? Good. Serves him right for spending so much time doing the same damn thing to her._

Revenge was a sweet bitch, and Raven welcomed her with open arms.

Smirk settling to a grin, Raven accentuated the point by leaning into Taiyang’s chest, wrapping an arm possessively across his waist.

Taiyang blushed.

“I swear – “

“Look,” Summer broke in, stepping into the center of the room. “This is reason to celebrate!”

“It is?” Tai said, as Qrow and Raven glared at one another.

“Well, sure!” Summer exclaimed, her smile meeting skepticism on three fronts. “Raven and Tai finally admitted they have feelings for each other, Qrow and I don’t have to keep secrets from you guys, and we’re finally on the same page as a team!”

Raven glanced at Tai, who gave a half-hearted shrug.

“She’s kinda right, you know?” he said, giving Raven’s waist a brief squeeze. “I mean, yeah, it sucked that we kept things from each other, but we’re past that now, right? A clean slate.”

“Exactly!” Summer said. She pointed suddenly, accusingly, at the twins. “Now sack up and apologize to each other!”

Raven and Qrow stared.

Then as one, they burst into laughter.

“Did you say ‘sack up?’” Qrow wheezed. “Do you know what that means?”

“Well, no, it’s just something I heard – “

“Oh, Summer,” Raven said, hearing the note of affection creep into her voice despite herself. 

“So you’ll apologize, right?” Summer pressed, her eyes wide.

“Yeah, all right, I guess I can do that,” Qrow said. He offered a hand to Raven.

Raven paused, surprised that Qrow conceded first. Usually he was so stubborn that it would take a week for him to even look her in the eye again.

Cautiously, she reached out and clasped his hand in return.

“Yay!” Summer exclaimed, clapping her hands. “We’re a real team again!”

“Not yet,” Taiyang said. “Qrow, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about me and Raven. It just…sorta happened.”

Qrow ran a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. “Uh, yeah, I mean. I might just need some time to get used to it. But I won’t object or whatever.”

“Like it would matter if you did,” Raven said, smirking.

“You care about what I think.”

“Sure do, little brother,” Raven said, pulling Tai into a kiss. He protested lightly against her lips but ultimately gave in, his hands on her back.

“Oh, _come on!”_

“All right, Team STRQ! Let’s get some drinks to celebrate!”

“Or to blackout that image from our minds.”

“Oh, it’s not that gross seeing your sister date someone.”

“Not you – Tai.”

“Hey!”

The bickering echoed as Summer opened the door, waving her petulant team through as she grinned, immune to anything beyond the fact that they were together.

_Ever the optimist,_ Raven thought.

Well. There were worse things to be.

***

“All right all new potential new recruits! Welcome to Beacon Academy!”

The high, projecting voice belonged to a slight girl only visible because of the great white cloak she wore, gesturing with wild energy to the campus behind her. Her teammates stood some feet away, as though they wished to avoid being too close – a boy with blond hair, and a dark couple that looked like they could be twins. 

Scowling, unimpressed twins.

Teal Clark met the red eyes of the boy and quickly turned her face back to the happy girl shouting at them. Her silver eyes glowed with too much enthusiasm, but it was better than the utter disdain half her team wore on their faces.

Teal, not quite sixteen, had expected something different from Signal Academy’s field trip to Beacon Academy. Beacon was her first choice school after she finished at Signal, and she had been more eager than anyone else in her class to get off the airship and see what the famous school had to offer, to talk to the students who were already nearly _real_ Huntsmen.

The team that greeted them was…not what Teal anticipated.

“Our name is team STRQ and we are going to whip you into shape!” the girl in the cloak announced.

“Ditch the duds,” the blond boy added.

“Single out survivors,” the scowling boy said.

“Crush you into oblivion,” his sister said.

“And rebuild you into Huntsmen!” the first girl finished. “My name is Summer Rose, and this is my team: Taiyang, Qrow, and Raven! The first step to becoming a Huntsman is to step onto campus! And so we will begin with this school tour!”

“…are all Huntsmen like this?” Teal’s friend, Goose, wasted no effort on subtlety, raising his hand like in a classroom.

“Yes!” Summer exclaimed. “Now! We are currently in the courtyard.”

Teal turned her head to run her eyes along the trees and smooth, white columns that lined the avenue, the slender buildings that rose up further back, pointed rooftops stabbing the skyline. Above even that, a great clocktower loomed overhead, the windows emitting the faintest green aura.

Despite the sunshine, Teal found the tower vaguely threatening.

“Also known as Main Avenue,” Taiyang said, bringing Teal’s focus back to their current position.

“Murderer’s row,” Qrow added.

“Murder of Crows?” Taiyang asked.

Qrow paused for half a beat, the Signal students watching as he gave his teammate a long look.

“Murderous Qrow.”

Raven snickered.

“His name’s Qrow.” Tai jabbed his thumb at Qrow. “That’s why it’s funny.”

Teal bit back a smile, but her friends groaned at the joke.

“Boooooo,” Goose called, holding his hands up to carry the sound.

Qrow jerked his head around, looking for the source of the noise.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Don’t get us in trouble,” Teal whispered.

“Goose.”

“What the fuck kind of name is Goose?” Qrow asked.

“What the hell kind of name is Qrow?” Goose retorted.

“The kind that has murder attached to it. Care to test it?” Qrow said.

Teal didn’t like the look in Qrow’s eyes. He didn’t look like he was kidding.

He cracked his knuckles a moment later as though to prove it.

“I wouldn’t. He almost killed someone his first year,” Raven said, all nonchalance. 

“Oooo,” Taiyang said. “Ouch. Too real, Raven.”

The student fell silent; Indigo shot Teal a nervous glance. 

“Moving on!” Summer exclaimed, pointing ahead, stomping forward with comical determination.

“What’s that? Can we go on it?” Sky asked, gesturing toward the great clocktower ahead of them.

“That’s Beacon Tower,” Taiyang said.

“Where Qrow spends most of his time,” Raven added. 

“Why? What’s in it?” Hydro asked.

“Games?” Teal asked. What _did_ almost-Huntsmen do in their free time?

“They’re in the library,” Taiyang said.

“What?” Indigo asked. 

“The games,” Raven said. 

“They’re in the library,” Qrow said.

“Training facilities?” Hydro said.

“That’s the forest,” Taiyang said.

“And the lecture hall,” Raven added.

“You fight in class?” Indigo asked, tripping over a loose stone in the walkway.

“Duh, don’t you?” Qrow said, catching the boy’s arm almost as an afterthought.

“Then what is in the tower?” Hydro asked.

“The headmaster.”

Goose giggled, whispering to Hydro. _”Head_ master.”

“You’d be the first up there,” Raven said, her voice dark. “If you even get into Beacon.”

Goose narrowed his eyes at her, clearly not appreciating the comment. Teal nudged him with an elbow; he rolled his eyes at her.

“Is that the CCTS? I’ve heard about it! Brand new technology so we can talk to the other kingdoms!” Sky exclaimed, pointing at the building.

“Don’t fuck with it,” Raven warned. “Students aren’t even allowed to look too hard at it.”

“Unless you’re good at hacking into things. And not getting caught.” Qrow winked at the Signal students; Goose grinned back in return.

_Of course Goose would find a kindred spirit at Beacon,_ Teal grumbled to herself. _Didn’t any Beacon student take their studies seriously?_

“…don’t fuck with it,” Raven repeated.

“He did almost get expelled…” Taiyang murmured to Raven, just loud enough for Teal to hear.

“He’s lucky not to have been arrested,” Raven growled back.

“And further to the right, we have the Beacon Academy statue!” Summer exclaimed, too loudly, waving her arms to distract attention back to her tour. A great marble statue stood before them, three figures in polished white: a man and a woman, cloaks and hoods donned, standing cliffside, weapons in hand, a large Beowolf standing proudly with them.

“Ooooooh yeah.” Taiyang laughed, elbowing Qrow. “Our old friends.”

“We’ve had some good times on that. Remember when Tai got stuck riding the Beowolf?” Qrow snickered.

“Yeah! That was ‘cause you put tree sap on it!” Taiyang protested, punching Qrow in the arm.

“Oh. Right.”

“My pants were stuck to it for a week.”

“The gardeners had to cut it off,” Summer said, almost sadly, “and maintenance was out here scrubbing day and night. I’ve never seen Professor Agrios so angry…”

“Yeah. Who knew tree sap could withstand Professor Agrios,” Taiyang said. “I still don’t know how Qrow avoided detention. I was in there for two weeks.”

“The headmaster thinks I’m funny,” Qrow said, shrugging.

“Oh! And don’t forget the time - “ Summer turned to the students eagerly, her expression falling almost as quickly. “…nevermind.”

“The Huntsmen and the spaghetti monsters?” Taiyang offered.

“The kinky affair with the Huntress?” Qrow asked.

“That never happened!” Taiyang said, looking vaguely horrified.

“There are pictures,” Raven said dryly.

Taiyang swore and looked away, cheeks pink.

“Are they supposed to be real people?” Teal broke in, confusedly trying to follow the private jokes of their tour guides. “The Huntsman and the Huntress?”

“Shit if I know,” Qrow said, shrugging and moving on.

Teal sighed.

The group moved past the campus proper, Team STRQ bickering amongst themselves while Teal tried to ask questions of Summer Rose, the only member who seemed to know anything useful about the academy; but even Summer’s attention was torn between the students wandering too far from the group, and the rest of Team STRQ saying things that didn’t deserve repeating. 

_“Aaaanyway,”_ Summer interjected at length, as the group trudged up a steep, grassy hill, “next we have the cliffside, which borders Emerald Forest. Airships dock here, boats as well down below.”

The view from the clearing was impressive, wind nipping at their faces as they met the cliffs, nothing but a great green carpet of forest below them.

“It’s beautiful,” Indigo said.

“You’ll become familiar with it real soon,” Raven said, sounding amused.

“It’s a great view. Right, Qrow?” Taiyang snickered.

“You’re damn right.”

“I don’t get it. It’s a cliff. And a forest,” Goose whispered to his friends.

“Some things you have to be there to appreciate,” Qrow said.

“Yes! Like the dangers of the forest,” Summer said, in a mock spooky voice. “It’s crawling with Grimm ready to tear you to pieces!” She made claws with her hands and motioned at the students, who watched, unimpressed.

“Aren’t you being overdramatic?” Goose asked.

“Not really,” Raven said, shrugging. “We almost lost some recruits.”

“What do you mean almost?” Qrow said, raising an eyebrow. “It took hours to locate that one I left in a tree.”

“Well if you’d marked the specific _tree_ in the _forest_ …” Summer said, her voice trailing.

“That wasn’t the mission. Besides, who has time for that? He didn’t die.”

“Didn’t he drop out?” Taiyang asked. “You two got into a lot of fights our first year…”

Qrow shrugged. “Someone had to thin the herd.”

Teal exchanged glances with her friends again; Indigo and Sky looked intimidated, moving away from Qrow and closer to Summer. Only Goose remained skeptical, rolling his eyes behind Qrow’s back. 

Silence fell as the group trekked back down the hill and toward the campus again. 

Taiyang fell back with the stragglers, glancing at the students as though to reassure them. 

“Are all tours like this?” Teal asked. She was _certain_ that the professors who assigned Team STRQ this tour would be horrified by this demonstration of the academy.

“Wouldn’t know,” he said. “Never been on one.”

“Weren’t you _told_ how to run a tour?” Teal pressed. Surely the professors here were thorough in their instructions. It was _Beacon Academy,_ after all.

“Nah, the headmaster trusts us pretty much with everything,” Taiyang said, all confidence. “We know all his secrets.”

“Any secrets you wanna share with us?” Goose asked, lowering his voice.

“Sure. Don’t trust the trees.”

“Why?” Teal asked skeptically.

“They look a bit shady.”

Teal blinked, realizing the punchline too late. Goose was so stunned by the bad joke that he simply stopped in the middle of the walkway, Hydro colliding into him.

Taiyang sauntered off, laughing to himself.

“What a douche,” Goose hissed, furious that it had taken him so long to understand the pun.

“Don’t get us in trouble!” Teal whispered back. “If he’s on such good terms with the headmaster – “

“Oh, come on, Teal, don’t be an idiot. He’s all talk. They all are.”

“These are the dorms!” came Summer’s excited announcement, diverting Teal’s attention. Goose was probably right: there was no _way_ Team STRQ could have done half the things they claimed. 

“Better hope you don’t get a room next to us,” Taiyang said, as the group moved past the building.

Raven rolled her eyes dramatically. “I wish I didn’t have to room with you guys.”

“Why’s that?” Hydro asked.

“If you’re lucky, you’ll find out,” Qrow said smoothly, giving the girl a wink.

“You mean unlucky?” Taiyang added.

“Boo,” Summer said. “That’s not nice, Tai.”

“I’m not wrong!”

“Quit it with the terrible puns,” Raven snapped.

“Not a chance,” Qrow said. “Tai’ll die before that.”

“Like Qrow passing his classes,” Taiyang said.

“Lectures are boring!”

“Speaking of lectures, off to the lecture hall!” Summer cried, pointing in a new direction, marching comically ahead.

“Ugh.” The rest of Team STRQ spoke the word in unison, dragging their feet behind their enthusiastic leader.

“Are classes that bad?” Teal asked. She looked forward to lectures at Beacon most of all, learning from such prestigious Huntsmen and Huntresses –

“They are unless you’re a nerd,” Qrow said.

“Yeah, but not all of us have Professor Ozpin to do our homework for us,” Raven drawled.

Qrow merely grinned. “Not my fault I’m the headmaster’s favorite.”

“Kissass.”

“Jealous.”

“Oh! Wait, wait, wait. This is the library,” Taiyang broke in, motioning toward another building. 

“You mean the game room?” Raven asked sarcastically.

“You mean the nap room?” Qrow countered.

“Same thing.”

“Where do we actually go to study?” At this point Teal was convinced that this team had simply done something awful to their actual tour guides, and that they were inevitable drop-outs on the way to expulsion.

The question was met with awkward silence as though the team tried to recall actually studying.

“We keep unusually busy schedules so I get mine done at the lecture hall,” Summer said. “Efficiency.”

“The headmaster’s office during remedials. Or rooftops,” Qrow said.

“The fairgrounds. It’s nice and sunny outside,” Taiyang said.

“Off campus. Where it’s quiet,” Raven said.

_Or where you can avoid the rest of your team,_ Teal thought.

“When are we hitting the dining hall? I’m getting hungry.”

“Qrow, we told you to eat before we started,” Summer said. “We’re going to the lecture hall.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t _hungry_ then. No one wants to see the lecture hall anyway.”

Teal opened her mouth to protest this assumption, but she didn’t get the chance.

“Fine,” Summer sighed. “Onwards, minions! To the eatery!”

They turned directions on the walkway, heading toward a tall, rectangular building in the distance. Summer lectured on with _almost_ useful “Beacon Fun Facts” about not being able to eat in the dorms, but Teal’s attention was stolen again when Indigo pulled at her sleeve.

“What?”

“The mean guy is gone. Qrow.”

Teal turned her head, catching sight of the red cape behind them. “He’s right there.”

Qrow reappeared with a bag of chips in hand, snacking by the time they reached the dining hall.

“That was fast, dude,” Taiyang said.

“Skills,” Qrow said, crunching on a chip.

“I hope that doesn’t mean you’re fast in b – “

“I dare you to finish that sentence,” Qrow said, eyes flashing.

“You’re supposed to take your time in life, Qrow. Appreciate things.”

“Like what?”

“Like your sister.”

The bag of chips went flying at Taiyang while the Signal students broke into a low _ooooh._ Qrow pulled Taiyang walking toward the fairgrounds, still bickering, a flask appearing in his hands. He motioned with the flask and Taiyang said something inaudible. Qrow began to walk away, only to turn without warning and pelt his teammate with what appeared to be marshmallows. Taiyang caught one and charged toward Qrow, the next marshmallow hitting him in the face.

“Oi, not in my _eye!”_ he said, as the boys rejoined the group.

“That’s what _my sister_ said,” Qrow snapped.

“Don’t be gross, Qrow,” Raven said, her tone bored.

“You have chips in your hair,” Indigo whispered to Taiyang.

Taiyang ran a hand through his blond hair, pulling a chip free. “Mmmm, nacho,” he chuckled. “I’d tell you a joke about nachos, but it’d be…cheesy!”

The Signal students groaned in harmony.

“Good idea! The fairgrounds,” Summer announced, her tone a little less enthusiastic, shooting warning looks to her team. “Who here has heard of the Vytal Festival?”

Most of the students raised their hands.

“Who hasn’t? It’s huge,” Goose said sarcastically.

“Did you know it’s also called the ‘Festival of Death?’” Qrow asked.

“Yeah, right. I saw the last one.”

“Were you there in _person?”_

“No, but I saw the broadcast,” Goose snapped.

“Then you didn’t see what they had to cut. So much carnage.”

“Qrow!”

“Awesome!” Goose said, his mood shifting.

“Until you’re the one in the ring,” Raven said lowly.

Silence fell amongst the students.

They _had_ to be joking, Teal thought desperately.

“The next one will be located at the Atlas Academy!” Summer exclaimed, in an effort to deter Qrow, shooting him a warning look.

“Where you can freeze to death if you are still outside at night,” Taiyang said, not missing a beat.

“That’s how they punish bad students,” Qrow added. “They leave two outside with one knife.”

“The one still alive is let back in,” Raven continued. _“If_ they survive.”

“That’s a lie,” Teal broke in, her irritation finally giving her a voice. “My father’s been to Atlas.”

“Oh yeah?” Qrow said, twisting around to look at her. “Did he break any laws while he was there?”

“No. Why would he?”

“Then he wouldn’t know, would he?”

Summer sighed loudly. “Speaking of rules! There are a few if you want to attend our next location: the ballroom!”

“Oh.” Qrow paused mid-step, noticeably unsettled. “That’s where we’re going?”

“Why would there be special rules for that?” Sky asked. “Isn’t it just like everything else?”

“Yes, but if you get in trouble, you won’t be able to attend dances,” Summer said. “And you don’t want to miss those.”

Qrow picked up his pace again, running a hand through his hair, agitated.

“So you’ve never been?” Goose said sarcastically.

Qrow shot him a look but remained silent, the flask reappearing. He took a drink and glanced down at it, as though it suddenly reminded him of something. He screwed the top back on and quickly hid it back in his pocket.

“He was banned his first year,” Raven said.

“And ditched the Historical Masquerade early the second,” Taiyang added.

“Prolly ‘cause he sucks at dancing,” Goose whispered to Hydro.

“The Historical Masquerade is one of Beacon Academy’s finest events! It is _so_ grand,” Summer said dreamily. “You get to choose your favorite historical figure based on that year’s theme, and dress as elaborate as you can…”

“Bonus it’s anonymous because it’s a masquerade,” Taiyang said.

“Yeah, _no_ one knew it was you doing the funky chicken,” Qrow said bitterly.

“Exactly!” Tai exclaimed. 

Raven rolled her eyes. 

Summer giggled, continuing to wax romantic about balls and dances and nothing Teal could imagine being excited for.

“Lastly, this is the amphitheater!” Summer’s voice echoed as they walked inside the huge building.

The amphitheater was indeed enormous, the ceiling a translucent glass dome, raised bleachers surrounding the circular stage in the middle.

“Dramatic much?” whispered Indigo.

“I’m pretty sure they’re all crazy,” whispered Hydro.

Teal suppressed a sigh. _They just now realized that?!_

“This is where you will receive freshman orientation and be assigned to teams,” Summer explained.

“Oh, we already have our team,” Sky interrupted.

“Oh yeah?” Qrow said, his swagger back now that they had left the ballroom. “Let me guess: best friends since childhood.”

“Yep! Team BLUE.”

“How do ya figure?” Qrow said, taking a drink from his flask again.

_Wasn’t this a dry campus?_

“My name is Sky, hers is Hydro, his is Indigo, and that’s Teal.”

Team STRQ went quiet, exchanging glances. And then –

They burst into laughter.

At least Qrow and Tai did. Summer had a hand over her mouth, shaking as she tried to hide it, and Raven merely smirked.

“I hate to break it to you, but your name won’t be ‘Team BLUE,’” Raven said.

“But all team names have to be based on colors.”

“They’re also based on names,” Qrow and Tai said simultaneously, laughing too much to get it in one go.

“So? We are all blue based.”

“You - “ Summer began, but Qrow covered her mouth.

“Let ‘em figure it out for themselves,” Qrow said clutching his side. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t let the headmaster know you wanna be on the same team. He’s…not one for giving you what you want.”

“No, I should say not,” a new voice, gentle and mellow, broke into the conversation. The group turned as one to find an older, silver-haired man standing amongst them, leaning slightly on a cane, eyes smiling over tinted glasses.

Teal straightened. Now _he_ looked like a real professor. Finally, _finally_ someone who actually knew something about Beacon.

“Oh! Hello, Professor!” Summer exclaimed, beaming.

“Good afternoon, Miss Rose. I see you have your hands full watching over touring students…as well your own team.” The professor’s eyes moved to Team STRQ, as though he suspected the tour was going dreadfully.

But he smiled.

Teal felt something crack inside. _Maybe everyone here was mad. Even the professors._

“We’re adults,” Qrow said.

“Technically,” Taiyang said.

“And I am your supervisor and team leader!” Summer exclaimed cheerfully.

“Hey, kid,” Qrow said, nudging Sky. “You wanted to be team leader right?”

“Of course!”

“They wanna be Team BLUE, Professor,” Qrow said, his tone serious.

“Oh?” the professor said, raising an eyebrow. “Already so certain of your team? What admirable confidence. What are your names, by the way?”

Eagerly, Sky, Hydro, Indigo, and Teal lined up, almost speaking at once. Teal didn’t even mind the sloppy introductions; now at least they had a professor actually listening to them.

The professor paused after the breathless introductions, his eyes darting up to Team STRQ – Teal saw him meet Qrow’s eyes in particular – and then back down to the Signal students, his lips pressed together.

“Isn’t that a fortuitous set of initials,” he said at last. “I’m sure it will be taken into serious consideration in the orientation ceremony.”

Sky grinned at her makeshift team, the students buzzing excitedly. “Do you think the headmaster would?”

“Oh, yes. It’s just so nice when things align in such a happy manner,” the professor said.

Behind them, Qrow snorted loudly, but the students ignored him. Teal refused to let his cynicism steal this small piece of happiness.

“Professor,” Summer protested, “you can’t – “

“Eh, let him,” Qrow said.

“You’re a professor, right?” Goose broke in. “Does Qrow get in trouble as much as he claims?”

“I haven’t been privy to whatever claims Mr. Branwen has made today,” the professor said, waving a careless hand, “but I’m sure he’s been incredibly modest. Mr. Branwen is intimately familiar with the headmaster’s office by now.”

Eyes turned to where Qrow fidgeted, looking away. “I’m _familiar._ ”

“Intimately,” Summer repeated.

Qrow glared at her as he took another drink of his flask.

“Tch,” Goose snorted. “If you’re so good, how come you keep getting caught? My record is spotless.”

“I have no doubt only a fraction of Mr. Branwen’s exploits reach my attention. After all the tower is rather tall,” the professor said, plucking the flask from Qrow’s hand. “Speaking of which, you may have this returned at the end of day, when you report to my office.”

“But - “

“Hah! See? Only an idiot would get caught in front of a professor.” 

“Only a moron would boast about how he’s the best delinquent in front of the headmaster,” Qrow retorted.

The students murmured. Teal jerked her head back toward the professor.

Did he mean that this professor was – 

“Qrow, you do that all the time,” Taiyang said.

“Yeah, but I can do that.”

“Why’s that?” Goose asked.

“I’m special.”

“ED.”

“Keep talkin’, Princess. You’ll find out exactly how many of those stories are true.”

“Pst. It’s all of them,” Tai whispered in warning.

“There’s no way such a reputable headmaster would allow someone like that to attend the academy,” Goose said. “Not with what I’ve heard about Professor Ozpin.”

“Ah, perhaps you’re right,” the professor said, shrugging. “When you run Beacon yourself, I’m certain you’ll do a better job of it. By the way, Team STRQ, I foresee you all having a little less time for pranks in the future. After all, you’ll need that time to train as my top pick at this year’s Vytal Festival. Now, I’ve kept you all long enough, and it seems my deputy headmistress requires my attention.”

Sky had to drag Teal away, the latter now absolutely _certain_ that had been Professor Ozpin himself, and she kicked herself and all of Team STRQ for not having made proper introductions. She watched helpless as a short, wild-haired woman approached Professor Ozpin. They spoke briefly, the headmaster motioning toward the retreating students.

Very abruptly, she began to laugh, the sound echoing in the amphitheater.

_That couldn’t possibly be good._

“Do you think that has anything to do with us?” Indigo asked nervously.

“Oh, I’m sure that was just…a joke about teacher things,” Summer said, her optimism strained.

Tai wasn’t listening, whispering excitedly to Raven. “Do you think he’s serious? ‘Top pick?’”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Raven asked.

“I don’t know…it’s just with all the mis – “ Taiyang broke off the sentence when Qrow smacked his arm.

“He knows we’re good,” Qrow said. “It’d be stupid not to show it off. His reputation’s on the line.” 

“Then he shouldn’t send you,” Raven said, smirking.

“I could take you.”

“Fat chance, kissass.”

“And we’re back!” Summer announced, her voice weary. They paused in Main Avenue again, the hum of airships in the distance. “I hope you all enjoyed your first look at Beacon Academy! We look forward to seeing you all in the fall at orientation! Please make your way down this walkway to the airships to be taken back to Signal. Any last questions? No? Good. Have a good day, everyone.”

The students began the slow walk back to the airships, shooting puzzled glances back at their tour guides.

“Well,” Sky said, after several minutes of silence. “That wasn’t what I expected. Teal, what do you think?”

Teal sighed. “I think I might go to Haven after all.”


	3. In which Ozpin faces accusations of misconduct but chooses to ignore them

Professor Lesca, per the headmaster's specific request, had spent the last day writing his lesson plans for the upcoming week. He detailed each location to be visited, each trap to be set.

The most complicated trap he saved for the headmaster's personal favorite: Qrow Branwen. The same Mr. Branwen that happened to be Professor Lesca's _least_ favorite.

The boy was pompous, rude, and entirely too arrogant - things many had accused the professor of being over the years, so if _he_ thought this of another, then it must certainly be true.

Yes, Mr. Branwen was in dire need of a real life lesson on how the world worked; knowledge and skill are what get you through life, not dumb luck. Perhaps if the lesson sunk in, Lesca could finally complete a class without the insufferable student interrupting him and arguing at every turn in field exercises.

Field exercises. 

The professor sighed. 

While he had, over the years, grown most fond of the off-campus curriculum, Qrow Branwen certainly tested his love for the trips. Gone were the days where the professor could arrive and dispatch of the Grimm on site, impressing all of the students. Gone were the days the students believed him not only a model citizen, but a model Huntsman.

Qrow Branwen ensured he was stripped of those respects.

_Tch._

If he weren't the boy's professor, he would certainly enjoy putting the young man in his place with a good fight. That’s how they did it _out there_ in the real world between real Huntsmen.

Alas, he knew if he attempted anything - directly, in any case - the headmaster would likely suspend Lesca which would certainly damage his reputation in more than just Mr. Branwen's class. 

Thankfully, charming charisma and the rumors of Lesca's career far surpassed any damages the troublesome student had caused during the year.

Still. A certain amount of damage was done. Even in one class, it was unacceptable.

And now Professor Lesca aimed to return the favor, tenfold if he could.

The trap he had designated was more than advanced - it required master skills even the professor would have difficulties preparing given the circumstances. 

Lesca smiled.

Yes, he would enjoy watching Branwen flounder.

***

"All right class! Who wants to go on a field trip? I'm thinking unexplored caverns, dangerous traps, and the promise of a solid Grimm fight." Professor Lesca beamed as he addressed his students. The class seemed to perk up immediately, murmuring with excitement.

"C-caverns? As in d-dark c-cave?" a mousy young student stuttered from the second row.

"Yes, Miss Mus. Precisely that."

"A-aren't there usually ...things in there?"

"That is the point of exploring, Miss Mus! We may set traps as we enter to ensure should we stumble upon anything, we may dispatch it with ease," Lesca said with a confident smile. "Do not worry, Miss Mus. I will keep you safe."

Qrow Branwen made some disgusting noise of disapproval from the back row, which Professor Lesca ignored. Branwen would learn his place soon enough.

"Let's be on our way then," the professor said, leading the way.

Once on the field, the professor handed his selected students - the most capable from each team...and Branwen - their trap making assignments.

He watched each team set up the devices, assisting when needed ...except Branwen, careful to ensure each did so correctly ...except Branwen. Naturally the cocky student seemed confident of his work. 

Overly confident. 

Lesca only smiled telling him _good job_ as he had them all step back. 

All devices set, the professor set out the bait.

It didn't take long for the Grimm to swarm setting off the traps just as planned. This time, Lesca had been immaculate in his preparations. Branwen would have nothing on him other than his own –

As planned, the elaborate machine collapsed, drawing all of the attention of the surrounding Grimm to Team STRQ.

Grinning, Lesca swooped in to save the day (most notably the team), already armored to the hilt.

As the last of the Grimm disintegrated, Lesca could barely contain his smug attitude. Branwen, as well as Team STRQ not only owed him for the lesson, they owed him for their lives.

"Thank you, everyone for your assistance. If you will please make your way back to campus in a group, your homework will be on the next chapter - trap making." Professor Lesca dropped his cheery tone, feigning severe disappointment. "Mr. Branwen, please come with me to the headmaster's office. It is simply unacceptable that you risked the life of not only yourself, but your team, as well as this whole class. Please do be more careful in the future. I won't be around to save you every time," he added, failing to restrain a smirk as they headed toward the grand tower.

***

The mug was halfway toward the headmaster's lips when his elevator pinged. He paused, glancing at his watch to determine whether he had forgotten an appointment, or meeting, or meal, or if perhaps it was simply time for Ferra to pester him about some inconsequential paperwork he had neglected to sign.

Ozpin put down the mug and opened the video feed to the elevator, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Professor Lesca and Qrow Branwen.

"Can I help you with something, Reed?" he asked dryly over the com line.

"Hey, Professor," Qrow said, almost casually, waving at the camera. It was an act, for the most part, Ozpin knew, recognizing the not quite anxious expression on the student's face, the greeting meant more to annoy Lesca than anything else.

Lesca shot Qrow a dark look. 

"If you have a moment, sir, there's a matter I would like to discuss with you."

"For you, Reed, of course." 

Ozpin pressed the button for elevator access, cutting the connection in mild relief, not eager to have this unexpected meeting, but no less eager to discuss it over a video feed. 

He rose with the elevator, prepping the coffee machine for a fresh pot, thinking that in ten minutes he would likely need the entire thing for his patience to survive the day.

The Council had assured him ages ago that the investigation was nearly done, if Ozpin could just give them a _little_ more time –

They had had time enough, evidence enough. Ozpin wanted the man out of his school and away from his students.

For now, however, the headmaster smoothed his annoyance from his expression, and settled back into his chair with fresh coffee steaming. 

Professor Lesca marched in with the subtlety of a peacock, delinquent student in tow, as he approached the headmaster's desk. 

He wasted no time, Ozpin thought wearily, in waiting for the headmaster to greet him. With Lesca, those little polite courtesies Ozpin treasured were cast aside, trampled in the professor’s hostile zeal to express his own opinions.

_How exhausting._

"Headmaster Ozpin, I would like to discuss the necessity of suspending Qrow Branwen from my course,” Lesca announced. “He is a danger not only to himself, but to his team and the whole of my class. As you can see from my lesson plans submitted to you last night..." he added, offering Ozpin a hard copy – a show of pride more than practicality.

"Everything was structured with safeguards in place. Mr. Branwen was provided an acceptable task given his self-proclaimed experience with such matters, yet his trap was the only to fail. When it did, the Grimm flooded the safety circle and - had I not been present - would have overwhelmed the class. It is irresponsible and unacceptable that he risked so many lives simply because he was too prideful to ask for assistance when he needed it."

Ozpin felt the weight of the speech as he leaned back in his chair, scarcely restraining a sigh. Lesca's insistent dislike of Qrow was wearying, to say the least, not only because Ozpin was so fond of Qrow himself, but because Ozpin considered Lesca little more now than a pink slip waiting to be signed.

_How angry would the Council be if Ozpin dismissed him here and now?_

Tempting to act on such emotional impulse, but not wise.

Without a word, Ozpin took the lesson plan from Lesca, reviewing the details within, his eyebrows rising anew with the complicated instructions. The traps were not wholly unheard of for third year students, although Ozpin would have thought twice before allowing such methods in the presence of Grimm.

"I see," the headmaster said at last, continuing to flip through the lesson plan. "But Mr. Branwen was capable of setting these traps during practice in class?"

"Due to the limitations of the grounds, there was no suitable location for practicing that particular trap,” Lesca replied, barely hiding the edge in his voice. “However, we thoroughly reviewed the instructions before we left campus. Many other students requested clarification. Mr. Branwen had plenty of time to ask questions, yet he did nothing." 

"I see," Ozpin said again. He glanced at Qrow, the student looking at the floor with lowered eyes. He looked guilty, which for Qrow was cause for concern; rarely when Qrow purposefully misbehaved did he have reason to regret it. Now, he looked as though he had done something without meaning to, an accident that caused more harm than any of his pranks.

Ozpin understood the circumstances immediately.

"Hmm" Ozpin said. "We all make mistakes, Reed, especially while we learn. Of course I agree that perhaps Mr. Branwen could have asked for additional instructions, but given the excitement and immediacy of working a complicated trap for the first time in the heat of battle - well. I'm not sure I would have fared much better. It's good to have high standards, Reed, but I would suggest trying to recall that your students are just that - students. They should be allowed to make their mistakes here, in the safety of Beacon, rather than on a battlefield.

"Regardless," he added, when Lesca opened his mouth to respond, "even if this incident was entirely at fault due to Mr. Branwen's inabilities, this clearly appears to be an accident, not an act of malice."

Professor Lesca furrowed his brow in frustration. "Sir, with all due respect, Mr. Branwen does not pay attention to safety lessons in class, instead choosing to discuss frivolous topics with his team while the I lecture on exactly how to _avoid_ situations like this. It is my firm belief that had he paid attention, had he done the work, had he _asked for help_ instead of rushing overconfidently into battle, he would have never made this _mistake_ to begin with. This is not the first occasion something like this has happened. He is a nuisance and a menace and if he were not your favorite, he would have been properly punished long ago - " Lesca cut himself off abruptly, realizing the slip of the tongue a bit too late.

Ozpin's eyes flickered to the professor, his mug paused at his lips at the statement – accusation.

_Ah, so there’s the real issue._

Ozpin himself was not in a position to object to the remark, given the evidence of three years of Qrow's misbehavior, and yet he found it distasteful that Lesca should be so careless as to bring it up in polite conversation. 

Lesca rushed to recover. "Headmaster, he needs suspension at the very least to consider how his actions affect those around him before he gets us all killed," he ended hoping the gravity of his words and the conclusiveness of his statements convinced the headmaster.

"I understand," the headmaster said at length, watching the relief flit across Lesca's face. "You say Mr. Branwen does not pay attention in class when discussing safety protocols."

"Exactly so, sir!"

Ozpin hummed, skimming the already familiar lesson plan. "And that he is consistently remiss in asking for clarification regarding said safety protocols."

"Yes, sir!"

"Hmm," the headmaster said. "That begs the question, Reed, as to why you would knowingly and willingly place a delinquent student - one whom you freely admit does not listen to your safety lectures - in charge of an overcomplicated, unpracticed trap on a battlefield - a trap that, should it fail as it did, would place your entire class in significant peril."

"Why, I - !" Lesca began, unsure of which direction to turn the sparked rage.

Ozpin sighed, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. "Reed, as a member of my faculty, I want nothing more than to support you, but at the moment, it sounds to me as though you orchestrated an entire field trip to play hero to your students at the risk of all their safety and at the educational censure of Mr. Branwen. Do I understand the situation well enough?"

"No, sir, I believe you do not. The situation is simple - Mr. Branwen requires punishment and you seem unwilling to cooperate with my inquiry. I submitted the plans as you requested. You approved them yourself. Branwen _failed._ As repercussion of his own actions, should he not receive proper discipline at your hand, he will receive a failing course grade from myself. Unless of course he is properly chastened and provides a written submission of his failures. As I was hoping for more, I will accept nothing less."

Ozpin sighed anew, his mug already empty, the beginnings of a headache pulsing at the front of his skull. 

"I see," the headmaster said yet again, the syllables to giving him another two seconds to think. "Then allow me to summarize your perspective, Reed, if only for my own edification: you submitted your lesson plans to me last night. The timestamp reads just after eleven o'clock. I won't say that's unreasonable; I did ask that midnight be the latest, and who I am, after all, to disregard those inclined toward loopholes? 

"Your lesson plan _is_ risky at times, but again, I won't argue that in a combat school every lesson should be perfectly safe. You did state that these traps in particular would be used. In fact, there is a level of detail in these plans that exceeds your usual work. I admit that I was impressed with them last night. I _did_ notice, however," Ozpin added, when Lesca's expression grew a touch too proud, "that you don't mention which students would be assigned to which traps, and I am required on the basis of my own conscience to once more inquire why Mr. Branwen _specifically_ was given this role, considering that you deemed him to be an unsatisfactory student at best, and a liability to his fellow classmates at worst.

"I don't want to challenge your authority in your own class, Reed, but I confess I grow concerned about what appears to be a genuine grudge against a student to the point where his future career is placed in serious jeopardy. What I would like to know, Reed, is whether Mr. Branwen's failures are a direct result of his inability to listen and learn, or if you are disinclined to allow him to succeed."

"I - !" Lesca began, his face coloring. "This! This is precisely what I mean! Sir - you play favorites. Had this been any other student, you would discipline them with _some_ sort of punishment. But never Branwen. No, never Mr. Branwen. The eternal disappointment of every faculty in the school, save the headmaster himself.”

“Considering that there was no practice of setting the traps, I am inclined to disagree – “

"Professor Ozpin, I am certain you are more than qualified to run this school, and in every circumstance you perform with well-earned dignity, respect, and level-headedness...except for this. I, as well as numerous faculty, am frankly disappointed and question your blatant nepotism regarding Mr. Branwen. Please, sir. Do not make the rumors worse. Do not fan the flames of concerns regarding your authority."

Ozpin made no reaction to indicate this outburst affected him, tapping his mug handle with restless fingertips. 

_Rumors._

Ah, well, there were always rumors. What was one more?

"Reed, if you no longer consider my judgment to be fair and objective," Ozpin said quietly, "or in the best interests of my students, I would be only too happy to hold a closed faculty meeting regarding the opinions and concerns of my teachers. I would be quite interested in hearing the alleged rumors concerning the dignity of my authority. In fact, if you would indulge me with bringing them to my attention now, perhaps I can more quickly make adjustments to my perspective that you may find more symbiotic."

Lesca blinked; Ozpin had called his bluff and now the professor hesitated. Lesca, Ozpin mused, was no more interested in repairing their professional relationship than the headmaster was, but it was Lesca’s move now.

"Well..." Lesca began. "The rumors...Mr. Branwen is often reported missing. Some have claimed to see him accessing your elevator...alone. So many have concluded he disappears to your office during these absences. There are rumors, sir, he...unsavory rumors...he _earns_ your favor. Of course - I myself would never believe such crude statements, however, the absences and attitudes do align. 

“Mr. Branwen consistently misses his curfews, reportedly not returning until early morning. He dismisses class assignments altogether, yet his scores are waived. He sets up elaborate pranks at the expense of students and professors alike. Critical instruments malfunction, concoctions spoil, and accidents... _injuries_ occur. His very presence seems to cause catastrophe wherever he may be and - whether it be purposeful or not, he is a costly mistake. 

“His potential, whatever size it may be, simply cannot outweigh the destruction he causes. Just last month while I was assisting Ms. Pearl in the library, I witnessed a bookshelf fall and trap a student, causing him to be sent to the infirmary. Mr. Branwen was on the other side of the fallen shelving. Laughing," Lesca added, and sighed. 

"All of these troubles, yet the boy receives nothing more than a supposed _lecture_ from the headmaster. Most faculty fear punishing him by now lest they face _your_ reprimand, sir. 

“Fortunately, I am not one of those faculty. I believe in justice where it is due. I wish for nothing more than the safety of my students - especially those eager to learn what wisdom I may impart on them. Mr. Branwen does not seem to fit this category, nor have the slightest inkling of desire to change his ways. He is a disturbance to not only himself, but a force strong enough to wreak havoc across the student body as a whole. I simply wish the school remain standing and prefer to stop the wake before the wave."

Ozpin listened to this speech, silently lamenting the impropriety of rising in the middle of it to pour more coffee, but he did so now, sighing internally at the thought of having the energy to deal with the absolute mess made in his office.

Reed was either very stupid or very clever, making grand announcements about Qrow’s unwillingness to change, after Ozpin had personally supervised the young man’s transformation from surly, self-destructive teen to someone who loved and trusted his friends, from the suspicious bandit to the adept spy who did good for its own reward. 

Reed had no interest in his student growing as a person; he wanted the kind of authority in his classroom that he rebuked Ozpin for having as headmaster.

A mess indeed, Ozpin thought, sitting down again with a steaming mug, and one not easily cleaned.

But Lesca was correct in one thing: Qrow was dismissive of some of his lessons, it was through Ozpin’s encouragement. Qrow’s lessons were being taught in the field, without supervision, on Ozpin’s orders. 

_”He’s earning your favor,”_ Lesca had said.

So he was, Ozpin thought, simply not in the tawdry manner insinuated. 

And the headmaster was not blind to the irony that Professor Lesca was echoing accusations of crimes that he himself had committed.

Everything about this meeting was intolerable to anyone with an ounce of civility.

"You make a convincing argument, Reed," Ozpin remarked lightly, blowing on his coffee and watching the ripples formed. "Were I not so completely informed of Mr. Branwen's whereabouts, I confess I would be convinced entirely. If I may, allow me to make some concessions to Mr. Branwen's future in your class.

"Firstly, I will no longer waive any missed assignments for Mr. Branwen in your class. His attendance will be perfect for the remainder of the school year. His behavior will be utterly impossible to criticize. Does this sound more amiable to your course, Reed?"

"Well, yes, but - "

"As for the...unsavory rumors regarding Mr. Branwen and myself," Ozpin said, shrugging. "I run a school of teenagers, Reed, and as teenagers, they are in constant need of explaining the unknown in terms of dramatic scandals. After all, how interesting would it be if Mr. Branwen was known to attend regular etiquette lessons to supplement his training as a huntsman? I daresay it would prove rather boring. One simply cannot believe _all_ the rumors that detail immoral relationships between students and faculty, can one?”

Lesca stiffened.

It was a reckless comment, and yet one Ozpin could not entirely regret speaking aloud. But it was as much as Ozpin could allow, at least for now.

"So then I shall consider this matter closed for now," the headmaster said firmly. "I will give you your rightful authority to fail Mr. Branwen if you _truly_ believe that your reasons for doing so are absolutely objective, but I will also allow Mr. Branwen to appeal the case before other objective faculty should he wish to do so. Regardless, you have my word that I will no longer interfere with how you run your class outside of approving regular lesson plans. Is that to your satisfaction?"

"Absolutely, sir. Thank you," Professor Lesca nodded his head in respect – or at least the semblance of it, pausing only a brief second to glare at the silent student in question.

Oddly, Qrow only lifted empty eyes long enough to witness what the professor wished - no returned glare; no disdain. 

Professor Lesca had finally won.

Or so Ozpin wished him to believe.

***

Qrow allowed his gaze to drop to the ground as Lesca stepped into the elevator, wishing to either isolate himself on a mountain for the next week or show Lesca _exactly_ how much carnage he could cause. The student hadn't fully made up his mind yet which one. He only knew Ozpin wasn't done with him, so he could do neither - but he sure as hell wasn't willing to approach the man given the student's current luck.

Not that he wanted to approach Ozpin at the moment anyway. For all of the sensations the headmaster usually roused in the student, today was something different. The end of the meeting definitely had not gone to plan, but Lesca wasn't entirely wrong either. Qrow couldn't argue what Ozpin didn't already know. Qrow had, in fact, set up the trap correctly, but as the stupid seething instructor had pointed out - it didn't matter. 

The results were the same. Qrow did cause the accident. His team could have – 

Lesca was an overly dramatic manipulative ass that underestimated his whole team. 

And Qrow underestimated his bad luck at the moment.

The student glared at the floor, an internal war brewing beneath his less-than-cool exterior.

Ozpin waited until the elevator had closed and was safely on its way back to the ground floor before letting out another small sigh, reaching for scroll and mug, dialing as he rose toward the coffee machine.

"Ferra."

"Yes, sir?" The deputy headmistress’ voice echoed from the device on Ozpin’s desk, the headmaster apparently unconcerned with putting her on speaker.

"The paperwork regarding Professor Lesca's termination - is it ready?"

"It can be. How soon do you need it?"

 _"Soon._ Please let Peter Port know that he will be graduating immediately into a faculty position."

“My pleasure, sir.”

Ozpin broke the connection, finally turning eyes on Qrow. 

The student felt the gaze with a surprising amount of relief; Ozpin had avoided looking at him throughout the meeting with Lesca, almost acting as though Qrow wasn’t present at all.

"Please, Qrow, have a seat and don't look quite so hopeless yet," the headmaster said, offering a small smile. "Professor Lesca may not be wrong in that I play favorites, but he is wrong in thinking he is capable of deeper grudges than me.”

Qrow took a seat without a word. Ozpin, holding grudges? That was a surprise. The man seemed too polite.

And maybe it was a little hot.

He cursed at himself internally for the invasive thought.

“I have given my word regarding your perfect behavior in his class for the remainder of the year,” Ozpin continued. “I apologize for speaking for you, but can you be a model student as a personal favor to me? I loathe to use a student as a decoy, but at the moment I need you to act as my queen while I make the necessary arrangements."

_My queen..._

Qrow's mood abruptly shifted, mulling the term in his head, the internal tides ebbing in preparation for a different sort of battle. 

Ozpin hadn't given up on Qrow at all. 

The headmaster still very much needed him.

"Your...qu...? Yes," he managed. “Yes.” 

Qrow's brain kicked into gear, compartmentalizing his previous flood of emotions. 

Ozpin needed him, needed him awake and thinking straight.

"I may have to cut down on some of my surveillance during the week if you need me to complete all of my assignments on time, but I can make up the difference on the weekend.”

The unexpected lift of the dark cloud over his head put Qrow in an usually generous mood – a generosity spurned by the desire to watch Lesca go down in a ball of his own fucking flames. He would sacrifice a few weekends for that.

As reassuring as this news was, Qrow still did not dare close the distance between the two men. He couldn't afford for anything to go wrong now. He had to be the model student now after all. 

"Thank you, Qrow," Ozpin said. His voice was even but Qrow could hear the relief anyway. "I know it's unpleasant to play nicely with those who act so decisively against you, but Professor Lesca was absolutely correct about one thing: it is time I am resolute in looking after my students' safety, which I will prioritize by removing a predator from my own payroll."

He tapped the handle of his mug with a fingertip. "I would offer assistance in your missed lessons, but I'm afraid it would only bring attention to you. However, you're a very bright student, Qrow, and I have no doubt at all you're more than capable of catching up."

"I..." Qrow began. 

_What the hell do you say to praise like that?_

Words never heard, never expected to hear, especially the confidence Ozpin had when he said it. 

Qrow by now knew the subtle nuances in Ozpin’s civil tones, the tiny differences in when he was being honest or simply polite. People like Lesca didn’t _get_ Ozpin, and that was their failure.

"I will," Qrow said. He had no idea if he was supposed to say _thank you._ He had no idea if he was supposed to politely deny the compliments out of modesty. For all his etiquette lessons, he still had some social reservations for situations he just had no fucking clue how to act.

_The perfect student._

Qrow did always like a challenge. He sighed deeply as his brain kicked into gear, taking notes on all his mannerisms to be changed.

_Fuuuuuck the list is long._

"Thank you," the headmaster said again. "In situations like these, it is reassuring to know who one's friends are.”

_Friends._

It wasn’t the first time Ozpin had called Qrow that, and the same warmth rose in Qrow’s chest at the word.

"Now, if you hurry, you may only be a few minutes late to your next class. I recommend walking in with your head down as though thoroughly hopeless. Think of it like a game of chess. We have the strategy and advantage, but we must lure our opponent into our trap. I will rely on you to sell it."

He rose to offer Qrow his hand. "You have my sincere appreciation in advance, Qrow."

Qrow stared at the hand offered to him, nervously shifting his weight between his feet before he finally stood to shake it. "You're welcome, Ozpin - Professor," he corrected. "Time to go be a moody teenager again.” 

He paused after entering the elevator doors, punching the bottom floor. "I expect an extra drink at our year-end meeting for this," he called back.

From his desk, Ozpin chuckled.

"Maybe we'll make it champagne this year," he said, offering a small wave as the elevator doors closed.


	4. In which Qrow thinks too much, takes solace in Taiyang's wisdom, and Team STRQ faces a test before the Vytal Festival

Behaving was not Qrow’s strongest virtue.

Fuck that – not only was behaving not a virtue he had, virtues weren’t a thing he had much of either. For two weeks he was a perfect angel: no pranks set on the innocent, naïve first years; no skipping class to drink or stretch his wings; no making snide comments in Lesca’s class; perfect attendance, perfect attention, perfect student.

He fucking hated it.

Sure, his grades were already showing improvement, and he could tutor Tai and Summer both (for a team leader, she sure did make stupid mistakes on her homework sometimes). But the boredom killed him. He paced about his dorm after class to avoid the temptation of starting a fight or setting off a prank, his homework finished too quickly to hold his attention. He beat the video game that he had been stuck on for months, and got good enough at Combat Fighter that no one wanted to challenge him anymore.

He tried reading.

_Reading._

At his last appointment with Ozpin, the headmaster lent him a few books, like an apology because Qrow was so bored. Qrow tried to read them, stumbling through the stilted, aged phrasing of language older than Beacon itself. Even the book about pirates read like some ancient epic poem, the sentences structured in a way that made his head hurt.

_Goddamn it, Oz, didn’t you have anything written in the last two hundred years?_

Of course he wouldn’t – these were probably his childhood stories.

Qrow snorted into the book, inhaling the smell of dust and old leather, flipping the pages without seeing the words, pausing at the etched illustrations of pirates and treasure. Somehow Qrow already knew Ozpin wouldn’t read anything modern; the man was practically a living anachronism, like he stepped out of the books he had on his shelves.

_Maybe he’s immortal._

Qrow snorted again. Two weeks and he was already going insane.

He slid the open book onto his chest, one arm folded behind his head. He didn’t even have the stupid politeness lessons to look forward to; Oz had kept them to once a week on Friday afternoons to not interfere with classes. Qrow never thought he’d miss quizzes on butter knives and dessert spoons.

But somehow, over the years, Ozpin had made even that kinda interesting.

Qrow heard himself sigh.

He shook himself to scatter the thoughts, cursing that he sounded like that much of a lovesick schoolboy.

But the idleness made it hard to avoid the daydreams, Ozpin resurfacing again and again. And it wasn’t even just the sexy stuff anymore. Sure, the Historical Masquerade had put a spotlight on Ozpin that made Qrow see him in a very different way – he wasn’t just all suits and stuffiness and lectures and kind words. Oz was human. He liked to dance and be romanced and wanted affection the same way Qrow did. Maybe he was lonely, with how quickly he seemed to respond to Qrow’s flirting.

Maybe he even wanted sex.

It had been jarring at first, of course – the shattering of Qrow’s careful perspective. Ozpin was a teacher, his _headamaster._ But now that months had passed, Qrow couldn’t seem to _get_ the thought of Ozpin and sex out of his mind. Everything that had been so innocent before seemed somehow sexy: the careful adjustment of his glasses with two fingertips, the caress of his white mug with white hands, the affectionate tones he used when he spoke Qrow’s name.

Qrow had spent a lot of warm nights thinking about the different ways Ozpin could say Qrow’s name.

And yeah, while suddenly seeing your headmaster _like that_ sucked, Qrow could tell himself it was just a stupid crush. It wasn’t as though Qrow wasn’t horny enough, and he figured that all this would pass after a few flings got it out of his system.

But now, with the old book that smelled like leather and coffee and age and everything Ozpin, Qrow knew he was in _real_ trouble. 

Now his daydreams weren’t about sex.

He spent afternoons with his eyes closed, thinking about the soft smiles Ozpin gave him; the way that he always offered Qrow a cup of herbal tea because he still couldn’t drink coffee without three creams and five sugars; the way his brow furrowed when Qrow managed to turn the tides in a game of chess; the gentle way his fingers drifted across the green glow of his computer monitors; the always polite speech that only stopped after a few glasses of whiskey, only in Qrow’s presence.

Ozpin changed around Qrow. The walls lowered – just a little – and he spoke his mind. _Really_ spoke his mind, without fear of judgment, without the reservations he used with everyone else.

The walls were still tall, but with Qrow, they lowered just enough for the young man to see parts of Ozpin he kept from other eyes. It was a warm feeling, one that Qrow felt nights when he couldn’t think of anything else except the strange realization that somehow Ozpin chose Qrow for –

For whatever this was.

_Friends,_ Ozpin called it. But Qrow was still a student, and Ozpin was still his headmaster. His boss for a job that didn’t even exist in the books. 

_Friends,_ but in every official and unofficial sense, Ozpin was off limits.

Qrow closed the books on his chest and grabbed his pillow, shoving his face into it and yelling, the sound muffed and tortured. 

Everyone else got crushes on their classmates like fucking _normal_ people, but _noooo,_ Qrow had to want the one fucking person he was certain he could never have.

Fucking. Bad. Luck.

Always.

“Rough day?” 

Qrow lifted the pillow, eyeing Taiyang’s entrance with narrowed eyes. 

“…yeah.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Tai pulled a chair up to the bed, dropping his backpack next to him.

“Nope,” Qrow said to the ceiling.

“All right. Wanna drink?”

Qrow rolled onto his side, watching Tai pull a twelve-pack of beer from his backpack.

“You smuggled in booze?” he asked incredulously. “Without my help?”

“Hey, you’ve taught me a thing or two,” Taiyang said, grinning. “I know you’re on ‘good behavior’ and all, and that it’s probably killing you, so I thought I’d bring you something to make today at least a little better.”

Qrow sat up, taking the offered beer. “Thanks,” he said. 

For a moment the room was silent except for the crack of the cans and the slurp of agitated beer – Ozpin would have clicked his tongue in disapproval. Gentlemen didn’t _slurp._

Qrow was smiling before he stopped the thought.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groaned, falling against the wall, striking his head in the hopes of jostling the thoughts of Ozpin away.

“Come on, man,” Tai said, his face sympathetic. “Let it out. I promise you’ll feel better.”

Qrow chugged half his beer before squinting at his friend. Maybe Tai was right. Maybe talking to someone about it would at least get it out of his system for a while. It wasn’t like he could go to Raven; she wouldn’t give a shit. And Summer…

Summer was too gooey about love and shit. She’d ask too many questions. And she was too close to Ozpin. The risk of her figuring it out –

Taiyang though…Tai was his best friend. He was trustworthy. And best of all, he could be dumber than a sack of bricks. There’d be no connecting the dots.

“All right,” Qrow said, inching to the side of the bed to swing his legs over. He pointed at Tai with his beer. “But if you ever speak a fucking word of this, I’ll slit your fucking throat.”

“Hey, man, I brought you beer. That’s like some kind of dude code of honor.”

Qrow nodded, chugging the rest of his beer and reaching for another. 

“You ever have a crush before?”

Surprise washed over Taiyang’s face. “Is that why you’re moping?” he asked, incredulous.

“Fuck you. I’m _not_ moping.”

“I thought you were like…dying because you couldn’t prank first-years!”

“Yeah, well,” Qrow grumbled. “That too.”

“Jeez. I mean, yeah, of course I’ve had crushes before. There’s Raven – “

“Gross.”

“Come on, Qrow.”

“All right, fine. Go on.”

Tai sighed, sipping his beer. “It’s pretty normal, Qrow.”

“So how do you get _rid_ of them?”

“Sometimes they just have to run their course,” Taiyang said, shrugging. “You have to suffer through it until one day you realize the feelings aren’t really there anymore.”

Qrow groaned.

Tai grinned. “Got it that bad, huh?”

“Shut up. It sucks.”

“I’m sorry, man. No chance it would work out?”

“Nope,” Qrow said quickly. “Not a chance in hell.”

“So focus on that. Keep telling yourself it’s not gonna happen, and maybe it’ll go away faster.”

“I have,” Qrow said miserably. “But the thoughts just…come back.”

Tai nodded. “I know the feeling. Sometimes they’re just that strong.”

“You’ve had one like this? How’d you get rid of it?”

Tai made a sheepish face. “I didn’t. It was Raven.”

Qrow sighed again, shoulders slumping. “Fuck.”

“So you gonna tell me who it is?”

“Not a fucking chance,” Qrow said. “It’s someone it shouldn’t be. End of story.”

Taiyang grinned. “It’s not me, is it?”

Qrow’s face scrunched.

“Ouch, all right, I was just kidding,” Tai said, laughing. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“So, I’m fucked. And not the way I want,” Qrow said, considering chugging this beer as well.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Tai said. “At least at first. No chance, I told myself. I mean, I’m not a complete idiot, Qrow. I know Raven could have her pick at school. I never thought that she…” He shrugged. “She was the one who kissed me, and then it was just…impossible not to think about her. So maybe if you keep your distance, I’m sure you’ll get over it soon. Just don’t get any closer.”

_Fuck._

“Uh.” Qrow lifted the can to his lips again.

“What’s that face for?”

“What if,” Qrow said, “I already kissed them and there’s still definitely, absolutely no chance?”

Taiyang raised his eyebrows. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you already got that far. Huh. Well. Have you tried just…avoiding them?”

“Can’t. School, you know.”

“That’s rough, man,” Tai said. 

“That’s it?” Qrow said, crushing his empty beer can. “No words of wisdom?”

The blond shrugged. “If you want wise, you’d have to ask Professor Oz – “

_”No,”_ Qrow snapped, grabbing a third beer. He heard the snarl in his own voice and cringed; he didn’t mean to react so violently, but even hearing Ozpin’s name…

Taiyang just sighed. “Can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t want to talk about a crush with a professor either.”

Qrow drank his beer, eyes drifting. “Yeah,” he said heavily. “Doesn’t sound fun.”

“Look, you’ll get over it,” Tai said, punching Qrow’s arm lightly. “You’re too much of a player for this to hold you back. You’ll meet someone else who’s into you just as much.”

Qrow considered that – meeting someone else who would distract him from Ozpin. It didn’t seem likely, but stranger things had happened. 

“Feeling better?” Tai asked.

“You know, I kinda do,” Qrow said. “Not sure if it was your shitty advice or the beer.”

“Why not both?” Tai said. “So, you wanna kick my ass at Combat Fighter again?”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t play me again,” Qrow said. The heaviness _had_ lifted a little, the situation with Ozpin not as pathetic and hopeless as it had seemed an hour ago. With luck – and beer – maybe Qrow could avoid thinking about Ozpin for the rest of the night.

“Drink the rest of the beer and I’ll play you again.”

Qrow grinned. “Deal,” he said.

***

Team STRQ stood in Beacon’s underground vault in a line, their weapons in hand. Summer shifted the weight of her spear in her hand, already itching to move. Beside her, Qrow leaned on his sword and Raven rested her palm on the hilt of hers. Taiyang, gauntlets equipped, shot nervous glances at his team leader.

Before them, Professor Ozpin stood some distance away, both hands on the top of his cane. 

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Tai whispered. 

“It’s an excellent idea,” came the headmaster’s even reply.

Tai’s face took on a terrified expression.

“I am looking forward to seeing how well you work together. Miss Rose, is your team ready?”

Summer made eye contact with each student, then nodded at the headmaster.

“Good,” Ozpin said. He gave his cane a brief flick. “Then I would advise holding nothing back, as I will extend the same courtesy to you.”

“We’re going to die,” Taiyang said.

“Everyone remember the attack names?” Summer asked. 

“Was ‘Black Dragon’ me and Tai or Tai and Raven?” Qrow asked.

“Tai and Raven. You know, because ravens are black.”

“So are crows.”

“Yes, but you and Tai are ‘Boys Club,’” Summer explained impatiently. “Didn’t you read the list I gave you?”

“Why’s everything got to have a stupid name?”

“Because it’s cool!” Summer exclaimed.

The rest of her team broke into mumbles of disagreement, shaking their heads.

“Well, I’m the team leader and I say it’s cool, so it’s cool,” Summer said. “Come one, guys, just give it a try.”

“Do you need a moment, Miss Rose?”

“No, we’re ready!” Summer called. She lowered her voice. “Remember, guys, it may be four against one, but this is Professor Ozpin. He moves faster than anyone I’ve ever seen, and if he says he’s all in, he means it. Don’t hold back.”

“Definitely going to die,” Taiyang said, his voice cracking in distress.

“We’ll open with ‘Black Rose’ and Tai and Raven will follow with ‘Black Dragon.’”

“Too many names start with ‘black,’” Raven complained.

“When do we start?”

“When I say go! _GO!”_

Qrow shot off from beside her, both hands gripping his sword, cape flapping behind him. Summer sped off a moment later, her Semblance zipping her past Qrow, to where Ozpin stood, raising his cane just in time to meet the clash of her spear. She didn’t expect to make contact so easily – Ozpin had more than demonstrated his effortless ability to dodge and parry – but he did have to drop the defensive pose a moment later to avoid the slice of Qrow’s sword.

“Black Dragon!” Summer shouted, and then Raven and Taiyang were beside her, Raven’s sword glowing a faint red, Tai’s gauntlets ablaze. 

She couldn’t see Ozpin’s movements beyond the flash and green glow of his Aura, his cane connecting with every weapon with a shrill _clang_ as each of the students were struck back again and again, Qrow dragging his sword in the floor to slow the pushback, freeing it with a roar of broken concrete to spring back into the fight.

Despite their whining, every time she shouted an attack name, the team members involved sprang into action, working in unison in a way she was sure she had never before seen. Ozpin would not be beaten by them – at least not today, not by skill and numbers alone. Therefore, she had hoped to tire him out, to make him second guess, to wear him down until Team STRQ simply became lucky.

And it worked too, the team bombarding Ozpin until he was forced in one place, fending off the eager attacks with the too-fast parries, the number of times he cast off his attackers growing less and less, until it appeared the headmaster could do little else but throw them off for a few seconds at a time.

_They could do it,_ Summer thought triumphantly.

Without warning, everything fell apart.

Qrow, flung off yet another unsuccessful attack, loosened his shoulders and stepped back as his sword uncurled into a scythe, his eyes narrowed at the headmaster’s movements, as though he could sense something Summer could not see amidst the spark of metal and green glow. Raven and Tai caught her eyes, turning to Qrow, anticipating the attacks they had planned using the advantage of Qrow’s scythe.

“Scarecrow!” Summer shouted, and all but Qrow attacked at once, Ozpin’s glow turning so bright it hurt her eyes. Her weapon struck Ozpin’s cane and she ducked before he could toss her across the room, hearing the explosion from Taiyang’s gauntlets and the ring of Raven’s sword.

“Now!” she cried, and all three jumped up as one. She felt the blow Ozpin landed against her and flipped midair as she fell back, prepared to follow Qrow’s attack, uninhibited by the proximity of his teammates. He raised the scythe with Ozpin still facing the opposite direction – 

The scythe made contact loudly, Summer wincing at the ring, but in the milliseconds that followed, Ozpin seemed not to move at all, then all at once, time caught up, and everyone moved in simultaneous, unexpected directions: Ozpin suddenly crouched, his cane held directly above him, striking the sharpest edge of Qrow’s blade; Tai found himself in the line of fire, the outward swing of the scythe hitting him across the gut; he fell back with a grunt, landing on Raven, whose blade turned upward with a surprised jerk.

Blood splattered wetly across the concrete, and, half a breath later, a green eruption blinded them all.

Summer felt her body skip across the floor, the shock ripping the breath from her; the pain came too late, roaring across her body, across the broken skin that left sparse, bloodied marks on the white of her cloak. She gasped, feeling the electricity of it, the sharp sparks that snapped along her veins. She could have let it end there, but this fight was practice only in theory, a match meant to be unwinnable, a match she was meant to lose, to _feel._

And so she lifted herself up on shaky arms, raising her head to see where her team landed, to regroup and get back to fighting, to protecting what they could for as long as they could.

She found Tai across the great room, picking himself up with a cough and a groan that echoed softly to her. Raven was not far from him, reaching weakly for a broken red blade, and Qrow – 

_Qrow._

Summer was on her feet and running, her limbs trembling with the effort. 

Ozpin sat upon his knees, leaned over Qrow, the headmaster’s hands softly green as they moved over his student, all while Qrow lay quietly on the floor, unmoving.

_No. Not Qrow._

Summer felt the sting of tears in her eyes as she ran.

“Stay where you are!”

The headmaster’s command shocked her and she halted, almost tripping over her tired legs.

“He’ll be fine,” Ozpin said, softly now, meeting her eyes. “Hold it in, Summer.”

She realized that she was not merely holding back tears, but the shine of silver that clouded over her vision, her breath coming in strained huffs, the panic of seeing a teammate climbing inside her.

“Summer,” Ozpin said again, his gaze steady. “Please.”

The panic rose again and Summer stifled a sob, clenching her eyes shut to push it back down.

_He’s fine. Professor Ozpin said he’s fine._

“Come on, Rosebud. I’m not that far gone.”

Summer opened her eyes and met Qrow’s red gaze, saw the crooked smile on his face. His voice was weak but confident, and the next sob became almost a laugh as relief washed over her, slowly replacing the panic from moments before.

With a quiet sigh, the green glow vanished and Ozpin slumped slightly over Qrow, the headmaster panting gently as the danger of Summer’s powers ebbed.

“Don’t tell me we wore you out that easily, old man,” Qrow said, without moving from the floor.

“Rest assured that my Aura would have been more than enough to protect you from Miss Rose’s silver eyes,” Ozpin said.

“Yeah? And you too?”

Ozpin merely smiled, adjusting his glasses and reaching for his cane.

Qrow’s expression grew irritated, the student pushing himself up, choosing instead to survey the long cut on his shirt.

“Miss Rose, I extend my congratulations to your team,” Ozpin said. “I am impressed with the cooperation you have demonstrated today.”

Summer opened her mouth, but Qrow interrupted.

“It was just bad luck we lost like that,” he said, almost spitting the words. “It was my fault.”

“Come on, Qrow, it wasn’t like that,” Summer said, offering him a hand up.

“Yeah? What fight were you watching?” Qrow snapped. “Every time we did that move in practice, we nailed it. Go figure the one time it matters, my Semblance fucks it up.”

“Hey, we put up a good fight,” Tai said, rejoining them with Raven. “Against the headmaster of all people.”

“And couldn’t land a fucking scratch,” Qrow muttered. 

Ozpin smiled again, using his cane to steady himself as he rose to his feet.

“Now, now,” he said. “It was only your first attempt.”

“I could have sworn I got a hit in,” Taiyang muttered. “I felt the punch land. And Qrow was right there – I don’t know how he could have missed.“

Qrow just looked away.

“Better luck next time,” Raven said, picking up the pieces of her broken blade. 

“All right, then let’s hit the showers!” Summer said. “Great job, Team STRQ!”

Taiyang sighed, following his team leader toward the elevator.

“You all performed admirably,” Ozpin called after them. “Reward yourselves with some rest and relaxation tonight.”

Summer gave him a wave as they piled into the elevator, Qrow lingering in the doorway.

“Everything okay?” she asked. She could sense his uneasiness, but she wasn’t sure why; the team had done well – better than she expected, and Professor Ozpin wasn’t hurt again.

“Yeah,” Qrow said, stepping in. “It’s nothing.”

***

Alone in the vault, Ozpin let out a long sigh, only for the breath to seize in his lungs. He coughed, covering his mouth in time to catch the wet heat that splattered against his palm. He studied the blood, lips twitching.

_Well done, Mr. Xiao Long._

He pulled a black handkerchief from his coat pocket and cleaned his hand, steadying his breath before making his way to the elevator.

Lives ago this would have been nothing at all to him, his Aura and magic more than capable of keeping him in fighting condition. But _lives ago_ was exactly as it sounded, and Ozpin felt the weight of his years and the years of those within him.

Every step hurt, lead-heavy limbs groaning. Team STRQ was even better than Ozpin could have wished for, and he gladly accepted the discomfort of training them. It was a small price to pay for a team this talented, this hopeful.

Even, he thought ruefully, stuffing the stained handkerchief in his pocket, if it so poignantly reminded him of his age.


	5. In which Team STRQ arrives in Atlas, and Qrow promptly causes an international incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested song for this chapter: "14 Faces" by Lewis Del Mar ~

The airship landed with a soft jolt, Team STRQ jostling in their seats, the students unaccustomed to air travel, shaky limbs lifting them to look eagerly out the window. Only Professor Ozpin seemed unaffected, swaying gently as the ship made one last shutter, the roar of the engines cut abruptly. Summer pressed her nose to the window, the chill of Altas already seeping into the ship. Outside, the airport was a carpet of sparkling white, the snow like so many tiny diamonds, the afternoon sun so bright she had to squint.

“It’s so pretty!” she said, her breath fogging up the window.

“It’s cold,” Qrow said flatly.

Summer turned to see Raven nodding agreement. 

“Oh, come on!” Summer said. “Think about how much fun we can have! Building snowmen! Having a snowball fight!”

Qrow made a face.

“I’m in,” Tai said. “I’d love to hit Qrow between the eyes.”

“I dare you to try,” Qrow said darkly. He gave the window another resigned glance. “Not a single place to sunbathe.”

“You could try splashing in some puddles,” Taiyang said, grinning, “but I think you’ll end up a crowsicle.”

Professor Ozpin chuckled when Qrow glared. “I promise that you will…warm up to Atlas,” he said.

Summer and Taiyang groaned. Only Qrow gave an amused snort.

“Thank you for obliging me, Mr. Branwen,” the headmaster said, clearly not regretting the pun. “Rest assured that Atlas has a good deal to offer in terms of amusements. There is the Vytal Festival itself, which is always worth watching, and the hot springs – “

“Now you’re talking, Professor,” Taiyang said, eyes lighting up. “I want to tour those first.”

“Last I heard, the hot springs were restricted to visiting faculty and their personal guests,” Ozpin said, lips twitching, “but I can see to the possibility of obtaining some permissions for you.”

Qrow gave Ozpin a sideways glance. “Yeah?” he asked, almost hesitantly. “You gonna crash our party?”

“Oh, I think I can visit another time. After all, what fun could it be for a professor to ‘crash your party?’” Ozpin smiled ruefully. 

Qrow looked away, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, right,” he muttered.

Summer knit her eyebrows. It was the response she thought Qrow wanted, but he seemed disappointed by it. Maybe he was just nervous – they all were, in an unfamiliar land, touted as one of Beacon’s best teams. It was a lot to process. 

The airship door opened, the ramp humming as it extended.

“Ah, there they are,” Ozpin said.

“Who?” Taiyang asked. “Our welcoming committee?”

“Precisely,” the headmaster said. “All of the Beacon airships will have a tour guide, but we are a bit more special. The headmistress herself will be waiting for us below.”

“Special because we’re with you?” Summer asked, grabbing her bags and hauling them to the door.

“Because _I_ am with you,” Ozpin said. “You’re the guests of honor, after all. I am merely here to supervise.”

Summer beamed, the words warm despite the harsh chill that now had full access to the ship’s interior. Qrow cursed quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. Taiyang looked at his shorts regretfully. Raven shivered but quickly straightened as though she didn’t mind the cold. Professor Ozpin, in his suit and scarf, closed his eyes and took a long, contented breath.

 _At least one of them liked the cold,_ Summer thought, wrapping her cloak around her like a blanket.

Atlas arrived on the ship in formal military style – at least Summer thought as much, with the men and women dressed in matching, pristine white and silver uniforms, hair smoothed back, posture perfect, eyes directly ahead as they stopped at the threshold. In front of them, an older woman of slim figure and equally perfect posture stood. Her pale blue stood out against bronzed skin, ice-silver hair pulled back into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Her stare was judgmental as she regarded Team STRQ shivering, at last moving to Professor Ozpin.

A smile broke over her lips. 

“Ozpin,” she said, and her voice was all warmth. Summer let out a quiet breath, relieved that suddenly she didn’t seem as scary as she had moments before. 

Ozpin accepted her hand, clasping it in both of his. “General,” he said. “A pleasure, as always.”

“Blanche, please,” the woman said, shaking her head fondly. “Still a stickler for formality, I see.”

“We both are,” Ozpin said evenly. “Thank you for receiving us. Allow me to make the introductions. This is Summer Rose, Taiyang Xiao Long, Raven Branwen, and Qrow Branwen. Team STRQ, General Blanche Barrack, Headmistress of Atlas Academy.”

Summer offered a curtsy. Beside her, the rest of the team scurried into hasty bows and murmurs.

“Team STRQ, eh?” General Barrack said, eyes lighting up. “I’ve heard so much.”

Summer bit back a smile. The Headmistress of Atlas had heard of them?

Then the general laughed, the sound echoing in the airship. “Well, Ozpin, I have to admit that they look like the scruffiest group of students you could have scraped together from Beacon’s detention hall, but if I know you well enough, they’ll be the team to beat this year.”

Ozpin smiled, looking at Team STRQ affectionately. “As a matter of fact, that is precisely where I found most of them. Sometimes, students determined to break the rules become greater strategists for it.”

General Barrack chuckled. “I want to disagree with rewarding bad behavior, but you seem to work your entire curriculum around it and I can’t argue the results. Team STRQ, I’m putting you in the adept care of Colonel Titian. He’ll show you around the academy and guest quarters. We’ll rendezvous for lunch in an hour.”

She nodded toward a redheaded man beside her; he straightened (Summer didn’t think it was possible to have better posture than he already did) and saluted briefly.

“Ozpin, if you’ll come with me, we’ll review the security protocols for the festival.”

“Thank you, I would appreciate that,” the headmaster said. “Team STRQ, until lunch. I trust you’ll be model students while in Atlas.”

“The best, sir!” Summer exclaimed.

The rest of her team exchanged unconvinced glances.

 _Thanks, guys,_ she thought. _So reassuring._

The students followed Colonel Titian down the ramp. Summer glanced back to see Ozpin offer a small wave; she smiled and nodded back. Professor Ozpin had faith in them, in her; that was reassurance enough.

The colonel led them inside the academy, a building of stark walls and plain décor.

 _Or no décor,_ Summer thought, as they passed corridor after corridor of empty, white walls. 

“Thrilling,” Qrow whispered to her, and she tried not to giggle.

“Your bags will be delivered to you after lunch,” Colonel Titian said. “Your room is down this hall. Number thirteen.”

Taiyang shot a glance at Qrow, who rolled his eyes.

“Your keys,” the colonel said, passing four plain keycards to them.

“So what do you do around here for fun?” Qrow asked, shoving the key into his back pocket.

The colonel raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“You guys _do_ have fun, don’t you?”

“There is much to be said about the rewards of hard work,” the colonel said. “Now, if we can continue the tour…”

Behind him, Qrow made a face. Taiyang hid his laugh in a cough; Summer covered her mouth quickly. 

“Don’t think that just because you’re not in Vale, you can start misbehaving,” Raven whispered, as the colonel droned on about the barracks and the history of Atlas.

“The fuck I can’t,” Qrow countered. “No one here knows the shit I can pull. As long as I don’t get caught, I can get all the good behavior out of my system.”

 _“Qrow,”_ Raven warned.

“Qrow, you promised Professor Ozpin,” Summer whispered urgently.

“Yeah, and he doesn’t need to know either,” Qrow said. “Come on, Tai, you agree with me, right?”

“Well, I – “ Tai caught Raven’s glare and coughed, scratching his head. “You’re on your own for this one, buddy.”

“Whipped,” Qrow retorted. “I’m gonna _really_ check out Atlas. See you guys at lunch.”

Without another word, Qrow slipped down an interesting corridor, his cape waving a goodbye as he sprinted away. In an instant, he turned a corner and disappeared.

“Oh, boy,” Taiyang whispered.

“Where is the other one?”

The rest of Team STRQ turned on their heels to where Colonel Titian faced them, eyes narrowed.

“He, uh…” Summer began, without any idea of how to finish the sentence.

“Motion sick,” Tai said. “Wanted to lie down in the room until lunch.”

Raven raised her eyebrows at Taiyang, as though impressed by his quick thinking.

The colonel sighed. “Very well. You can contact him via scroll when the tour is complete. Now, if you come this way…”

Summer sighed in relief, her teammates following obediently behind the colonel. She glanced back at the white halls, hoping with all her energy that for once, Qrow’s bad luck wouldn’t rear its head.

***

Professor Ozpin stood in Atlas Academy’s security hub, static of digital screens all around him, eyes skimming every angle of the school. The room was warm but not unpleasantly so, a mug of very strong Atlas coffee in hand, listening as General Barrack described the protocols in place for the Vytal Festival.

The Vytal Festival was hardly a vacation; Ozpin had a number of students in Atlas, and Team STRQ was a constant source of concern, but being away from Beacon – the school in Ferra Agrios’ capable control – was enough to relax Ozpin in a way he rarely knew. In Atlas, a military guarded his students. In Atlas, safety became someone else’s priority. 

In Atlas, Ozpin could sit in the stands with popcorn and local sweets and not think about the thousands of details that went into planning the Vytal Festival.

He sighed, all contentment, as General Barrack continued the security tour.

“How is your coffee?” she asked.

“Strong enough to burn a hole through my stomach lining,” Ozpin replied. “That is to say: perfect.”

She smiled at him; after years of working as headmasters a continent apart, she knew him well enough to remember how he took his coffee, his most prominent concerns regarding the safety of his students. He had already visited his room to find it furnished with the extra details the general enjoyed offering her distinguished guest: generous amounts of freshly ground coffee at a pristine espresso machine; a computer with dedicated security lines that even the Atlas staff could not access without the general’s explicit permissions; a gift basket of assorted sweets, including the spiced chocolate now famous in Atlas; a bottle of _eiswine,_ a sweet white wine produced from the frozen Atlas vineyards.

After lunch, Ozpin had every intention of returning to his room, running a hot bath, and settling in with that bottle of wine and chocolates pilfered from the gift basket.

The Vytal Festival wasn’t _officially_ a vacation, but Ozpin could certainly pretend for one night.

Ozpin sighed happily into his coffee again.

“Sir?”

A soldier called for General Barrack’s attention; she excused herself, peering over the monitors. Ozpin glanced in the same direction, to a camera focused on a series of tank-like vehicles stationary in the snow. One appeared to be moving, lurching haphazardly forward.

“Is there a problem, General?” Ozpin asked, not truly worried, but feeling as though the moment called for polite concern.

“One of the Snowcrawlers is active,” she said, “without prior clearance.”

Ozpin hummed, not particularly caring what that meant, and sipped his coffee.

“There’s no response from the cockpit,” Ozpin heard the soldier report.

An explosion seemed to shake the building an instant later.

Ozpin stepped backward as a number of soldiers hurried past him, clamoring around the general. Several of the monitors showed the tank now, the machine plowing through the snow with aggressive determination, the barrel of its gun still smoking.

Now there was cause for Ozpin to be concerned.

“Tell the men to open the hatch and drag the person responsible out by his scruff,” General Barrack snapped.

Onscreen, a number of white-clad officers arrived, climbing atop the machine with impressive efficiency. Within moments, the hatch was open and several disappeared inside.

“There’s no one inside,” came the crackled voice on the com line.

“Impossible,” General Barrack said.

“Are those machines incapable of such a malfunction?” Ozpin asked.

“No,” the general said, pressing her lips together. “Not to this degree. Weapons need clearance codes to be activated.” She turned back to the monitors. “Is there any damage to the school?”

“Negative, sir. The shell cleared the roof. We’ll retrieve the debris as soon as possible.”

General Barrack straightened, looking stern. “I want a full report on how this could have happened,” she said. She looked up at Ozpin. “My apologies. This is absolutely unacceptable and unprecedented.”

“I’m sure – “ Ozpin broke off the polite reassurance, eyes catching a dark spot on the monitor. At first it seemed like little more than that, but as he watched, a black form slipped from the cockpit hatch, spreading its wings as it hopped down the side of the tank.

_Qrow._

_He wouldn’t._

Even as he thought it, Ozpin knew it was a lie. Of course Qrow would. Of course.

“Ozpin?”

The headmaster looked back at General Barrack’s expectant expression. 

“I’m sure it can be easily explained,” he said at length. “With technology as refined as yours, these things must be inevitable. Nevertheless,” he said, clearing his throat, watching Qrow’s small form take flight, “I have the utmost faith that your team will not allow another incident like this to occur.”

A lovely speech, he thought, for a man whose student had just caused a potential international incident. He stopped speaking only when he saw the bird vanish from the screen, safely hidden away from the general’s shrewd eyes.

“Thank you for your understanding,” General Barrack said. 

“Why don’t I meet Team STRQ for lunch,” Ozpin said, “and offer an apology for your absence? I would not think to tread on your time any further.”

“That would be for the best,” she said. “Thank you again, Ozpin. You always were of sound mind. Colonel, if you could escort Professor Ozpin to the dining hall – “

“Please,” the headmaster intervened. “I know my way around Atlas well enough. Until later, General.”

He made his exit quickly, turning in the direction of the dining hall. Only after he turned a corner did he seize the scroll from his pocket, sending a message to his favorite student in seconds.

_You better not have done what I think you just did._

***

"That was almost smooth," a smooth voice crept over Qrow's shoulder, making him tense instantly. For a broken moment he thought the voice was in his head; he'd flown too far for anyone to track him from the tank.

It wasn’t possible.

"You almost got away with it." A girl, about Qrow's age, rounded his side to face him. "You go in incognito, you go out incognito."

Qrow sized her up quickly: a slender thing that he wouldn’t have immediately assigned female if not for the octave of her voice, short, shaggy reddish hair that she wore carelessly below a blood red sash over one eye and a grin on her face. She folded her arms over a corseted vest that Qrow suspected hid feminine curves, bracers over thin wrists, a pistol and a knife tucked into high-high boots. 

Everything about her screamed a culture similar to what Qrow grew up in.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Qrow said.

"Neither does your headmaster," she said. 

On cue, Qrow's scroll pinged to life.

_Fuck._

He glared from the device to his unwanted companion.

"Look if you're going to rat me out - "

"I won't."

Qrow snorted. "Blackmail then?" 

"Nope."

 _Then what the hell was she after?_

Qrow's gaze narrowed.

The girl smiled. 

"Just gonna keep my eye on you," she said, patting his shoulder. "You look like fun."

Her eyes twinkled. Qrow didn't trust that twinkle. It was the same twinkle he had when -

Heavy footsteps thudded suddenly, from all sides, armored troops surrounding Qrow. 

He gasped and turned, but they were organized; there wasn’t a single space to slip through – not as a human, in any case.

_Fuck._

He knew the drill by now: hands up and shut up.

"Sir, we've located the suspect," one barked into his radio.

"Good! Detain and join the search around the artillery,” came in from the communication line. “We have an attack in the mobile - " 

_What the hell? No, no, no...they have the wrong guy. I was the tank guy –_

“Look,” Qrow interjected desperately, “you’ve got the wrong guy. Whatever this is, it was her – “ 

Qrow turned to motion at his surprise companion – whom had vanished in the second his attention was split.

"Damn it," Qrow spat.

"Sir! It's there! In his pocket!" Another soldier broke form, scurrying up to Qrow and pilfering a shiny necklace from his pocket.

_What the fuck?_

"That's not mi - "

"Shut it, thief. We've got bigger problems right now," the douchebag Qrow assumed was in charge ordered. "This is Unit Two. We need to secure all military weaponry and prime all units. There's no way this is a one-time attack - this is going to be a big one. I can feel it in my bones."

It would have sounded cool to the average guy except for the overly dramatic false bravado Douchebag #1 was tossing out there. Think personal one-man army determined to remove all corruption from the world – except for the fact that he had a nervous twitch in his left arm that gave away his insecurities.

 _He'll never make it to top command no matter how much he works on his acting skills,_ Qrow thought dully.

Qrow sighed, watching the first officer approach him with restraints.

"Is this really necessary?"

"You _stole the medals for the Vytal Festival."_ The man removed the medal from his pocket, displaying it in his gloved palm. 

"If I stole it, I would have stolen first place. Not bronze," Qrow snapped.

"You panicked knowing we were hot on your trail."

_If you were hot on my trail, you would have known I had nothing to do with it._

"Right," Qrow said, rolling his eyes.

"We have an eyewitness see you stealing the medals. We have camera footage."

"The hell you do. I wasn’t even near the auditorium." 

“Yeah? You got a better explanation?”

Qrow snapped his jaw shut, teeth grinding. He knew damn well if he confessed to what he was actually doing, he'd be in a hell of a lot more trouble.

It didn’t take long for his bad luck to catch up to him in Atlas.

Then again, Qrow considered, as his scroll pinged again, if Ozpin could be convinced Qrow simply stole some piece of shiny, maybe this wasn’t such a bad cover.

A lot better than starting a war with Atlas.

"Yep, all right,” Qrow announced. “You caught me. I did it. Take me away." He held his arms forward for the shackles.

"Tch." The shackles slammed closed, sealing Qrow's fate. "Outsiders. No respect for the military - " 

"Xenophobe," Qrow bit out under his breath.

"What was that?!" douchebag demanded smacking Qrow in the back of the head.

Qrow shrugged.

The commander shoved him forward to the obvious rookie. "Evans. You take him into custody. We're going to join the hunt."

"Sir!" Rookie squeaked, watching the remaining units rushing to assist with the great military attack.

_I did that. I made the entire Atlas army lose its shit._

Too bad there was zero chance of taking credit for it. He couldn’t even risk telling Taiyang.

A legend never meant to be retold.

_Just his luck._

Qrow eyed his guard. _Scrawny little shit._

What was one more international incident?

Qrow stood his ground, waiting until he was sure they were alone.

"Walk," Dipshit ordered, nudging Qrow with his blaster.

Qrow responded by head-butting him. The soldier dropped like a brick.

_Greatest military force in the world, my ass._

He was out of the shackles in less time than it took the troops to put them on.

"Rookie," Qrow smirked, securing the kid to a nearby post by his own lock. 

Qrow took the key.

It was shiny.

And they took his shiny.

Shiny that wasn't his to begin with.

_Right. The girl._

Qrow spent the next few hours searching high and low for the female bandit.

Was she just trying to pin her crime on him? Did she know it saved him? Did she plan to save him?

...was she just fucking with him?

_Probably._

Qrow recalled the twinkle in her eye.

_Definitely._

He sneezed, shivering in the cold, glancing up as though the girl could have hidden in the trees. He wasn’t sure he could put that past her.

...but why did the eyewitness peg Qrow? How could they have known where he was? 

Probably just someone with the same clothes.

But _she_ stole it.

And she wasn't from Beacon Academy.

...did she steal his clothes?

Qrow wouldn't blame her. He was popular with the ladies. But she didn't seem like the fan girl type.

And how did she know where he was? How did she know what he did?

 _...fuck._

Qrow pinched the bridge of his nose to ease the intensifying headache. 

He wasn't used to someone driving him in circles this much. 

That was _Qrow's_ move. That was his territory. 

His scroll trilled again and he chewed his lip when Ozpin’s name came up.

He didn’t know how the _fuck_ he was going to explain this one.

Qrow let out a huff of frustration, jumping off of the last rooftop of the last building he could possibly search, every crude curse running through his head to describe the missing girl.

Gods, she was -

"Hey!" 

Qrow cursed, jumping back from the figure dangling upside-down from the roof he was just on. 

It was _her._

Qrow glared at her.

She giggled, dropping to the ground effortlessly. "You're cute when you're caught off guard."

"Tch. You're annoying when you're on the hunt."

"Yeah," she shrugged, "but I always catch my prey."

"...and for some reason that's me?" Qrow's eyebrows shot up in curiosity.

"For now."

"'For now?'"

"Yep. When you get boring I'll kick you to the curb like pecked over leftovers," she said, accentuating each syllable by poking at his chest.

"It’s fun in the gutter."

"That it is..." She circled Qrow, examining each fiber of muscle and cloth alike, her fingers dancing across his shoulders as she did so.

Qrow noticed the peppy bounce in her step - unmistakable excitement. His head fell to the side, brow cocked in curiosity again.

"You want me. Is that all this is?”

"Or I want to _be_ you," she teased.

Qrow didn't take the statement lightly - and she didn't expect him to. Something about her wasn’t as irritating as he thought; no one spoke to him the way she did. He was curious what she would say next.

After all, Qrow was astute in ways most weren't. 

But so was she.

They were two birds of a -

_Let's not get sentimental yet._

Still, even if she _was_ cute and clever, Qrow had to watch his tail, especially with someone masquerading as him. 

She tugged on his tailcoats as if reading his mind.

Qrow's crimson eyes flicked to hers.

"How did you get the eyewitness?" 

The girl came face to face with Qrow, grabbing his lapels to pull him close enough he felt her breath on his chest. "Come with me tonight and I'll show you."

The young man debated the wisdom of this demand, only to shove logic aside in place of inquisitive curiosities.

"Where?" he asked knowing damn well this would lead to trouble.

"Airship docks. Midnight sharp."

"Done."

She pulled him into a kiss - arms forceful, but lips soft, gently testing and teasing.

Qrow allowed the kiss but offered little of the shocked reaction she seemed to crave.

She pulled back smirking to herself. "I knew you'd be fun to hunt."

"I knew you'd be trouble."

"The best kind."

***

By the time Qrow called Ozpin back, the headmaster only had one terse sentence to offer:

“My room, eight o’clock sharp.”

He disconnected without warning, the beep echoing in Qrow’s ear.

It was the closest thing to anger Qrow had heard in Ozpin’s voice.

 _How fucked am I?_ Qrow wondered. It was a reoccurring thought throughout dinner, dodging questions from his team about his absence that afternoon. He made an excuse to leave Team STRQ’s room at a quarter to eight, counting the numbers on the doors as he approached the faculty guest rooms. 

Ozpin’s room was at the end of a hall, far removed from where his students were staying. Qrow wet his lips as his knuckles hovered over the door.

 _This feels like an execution,_ he thought.

With a deep breath, he rapped quietly.

Ozpin answered almost immediately, eyes dropping to Qrow without expression. Qrow strained to read his face, but the headmaster remained firmly blank, merely waving Qrow inside.

In the corner, a fire danced cheerfully, two armchairs before it. One bore a throw blanket with Ozpin’s vague outline, an empty wineglass on the table, his scroll facedown beside it. 

“Have a seat,” Ozpin said quietly.

Qrow sat, folding his hands in his lap, awaiting the axe.

Ozpin joined him, letting out a soft sigh as he did, adjusting his glasses.

“Look, Oz – “

“Not a word,” the headmaster said sharply. Ozpin pressed his lips together and Qrow could sense the temper restrained.

 _Holy shit,_ Qrow thought. He really was in trouble this time.

“General Barrack informed me that this afternoon there was a critical security breach in one of their military vehicles,” Ozpin said. “The official report states that it was a technological malfunction, despite the unlikelihood that such a weapon could fire of its own accord.”

Qrow stared.

_A malfunction?_

There was no fucking way Qrow could be that lucky.

“General Barrack initially believed,” Ozpin continued, “that an intruder was at fault, and that this could potentially carried the weight of an act of war or terrorism. However, I happened to be in the security hub at the time, and I observed something the Atlas security team failed to see: a small black bird hopping out of the tank.”

Qrow’s blood froze. 

_Yep. No way he was that lucky._

“I suggested to the general,” Ozpin said, “that the vehicles must have some small opening in which a bird could slip through, and in its confusion, set off a violent series of events within. General Barrack was so embarrassed by the idea that the entire incident has been dismissed officially as a malfunction, and the tanks in question will be temporarily disabled until such precautions can be made against future…avian issues.”

Qrow swallowed with a dry throat. “So you…you covered for m –“

“I observed the incident onscreen and merely made a comment regarding a possible explanation,” Ozpin interrupted sharply. “As far as Atlas knows, I have no further information that would suggest a different outcome.”

Qrow clamped his mouth closed.

 _Keep your mouth shut_ is what Oz was telling him. No need to say it twice.

“Furthermore,” Ozpin said, “regarding the theft of Vytal Festival property, I have assured General Barrack that you were with me at the time. Your team states you left the lunch tour around the same time I left the security tour.”

Qrow’s tongue struggled to work. “Thanks, Oz. I owe you one – “

“Rest assured that none of this was for your benefit,” Ozpin said, his voice like ice.

Qrow flinched.

“I am protecting my school, Beacon’s reputation, and preventing a potentially violent misunderstanding with Atlas. We are both fortunate that General Barrack trusts me sufficiently not to doubt my word.”

Qrow nodded, afraid to speak.

“Because I cannot officially rebuke your behavior – whatever that may have been – I will require something more creative. In the meantime, Qrow, you will, for the remainder of your time in Atlas, give me absolutely no reason to worry about your behavior.”

“I’ll be a model student,” Qrow said dully.

Ozpin sighed again, shoulders falling.

“I’m not asking for perfection,” the headmaster said, his voice softening. “Just…use your head, Qrow. I don’t have the same authority here as in Vale. I know how hard you’ve worked under Professor Lesca, and in hindsight, I should have known that pressure would spill over in some manner eventually. Just please be careful.”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you. That’s all for now.”

Qrow rose, offering a crooked smile. “So you forgive me?”

Ozpin laughed, deep and genuine, the stress easing from his face.

“Not even a little,” he said.

***

A cool breeze blew across the docks kicking ocean mist into the air. Qrow watched the whirlpools dance on the small patch of remaining beach protesting against the high tides. He checked his scroll: two minutes to midnight.

He wasn't about to be caught off guard again. Nor was he going to get caught outside his room after fucking up so much today.

Qrow kicked himself into the air shifting to his avian form and flying high. He'd love to see the girl try to get a jump on him now.

The bird circled the air above the dock entrance - not a single soul.

 _Chicken shit,_ Qrow thought. 

Despite his annoyance with the girl, she had brought an element of excitement to his life - something he craved dearly in the monotony of civilized life, effectively grounded by Lesca. Hell, if she could cover for him, he -

The sound was loud enough to blast the trees below from the source, an Atlas robotic soldier with what looked like a rocket launcher braced at the shoulder. Qrow was caught in a net it propelled through the air, spiraling towards the ground before he knew what was happening. Instinctually, he transformed, his scythe slicing through the web with ease as he landed on the ground, primed for fighting.

The girl emerged from the impromptu clearing.

"I thought that was you," she grinned, rocket launcher resting casually on her shoulder.

Qrow responded with a glare.

"Relax. A Semblance for a Semblance, right?" 

Qrow's eyes scanned the scene for the soldier, but the clearing was empty aside from them. His gaze settled on her, she raised her eyebrows, clearly amused, and lifted her eye patch. From beneath, a yellow cat eye glimmered in the moonlight.

She...was a Faunus? Or was this another illusion?

"Yes," she responded to the unspoken question.

"Yes what?"

"I'm a Faunus. Half to be exact."

"So?"

"So you looked like you were going to rip my eye out of my socket to figure out whether it was real."

"Your Semblance is transformation?"

"Yep. Like yours, only cooler."

Qrow stared at her flatly. "'Cooler.'"

"Cooler. More options: anything humanoid."

"So no flying."

"No."

"So not cooler."

She let out a hearty laugh. "If that is your criteria..."

"It is. Stealth mode."

"Hiding in plain sight."

The two shared a moment of silence, a bond growing between them. Qrow didn't even know her name, but he suddenly felt overwhelmingly familiar with her - an outcast, a shifter able to watch everything from afar, yet up close, completely invisible at will.

"Calico."

"Qrow."

"Let's go start some shit."

"Done," he smirked. 

Yep. She was going to be fun.

He’d figure out a way to make it up to Ozpin somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience during another unscheduled week off. My health has been trying lately, and both of us have been exceedingly busy with work. We appreciate you all for sticking with us through our scheduling issues! <3
> 
> ~Clocks


	6. In which Team STRQ meets a new friend, and Qrow tries to make up with Ozpin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for your patience! We have the next three chapters done and ready to post on time for the rest of the month! We're excited to see exactly where things go during the Vytal Festival. Thank you for reading!

The hot springs at Atlas Academy lay hidden toward the furthest parts of campus, along a snowy paved path leading away from the guest accommodations where the honored foreign faculty were held. 

Raven glanced at the curtained windows above her, eyes searching for the room that might have held Professor Ozpin.

The questions remained, haunting her at night when she couldn’t sleep, lurking in the back of her mind every time she saw the headmaster. 

Questions she knew he wouldn’t answer.

Qrow may be fine blindly following Ozpin’s orders, but that was the difference between them. Raven was doing this for herself, for her tribe. The good of the world?

Please.

Raven didn’t owe the world a damn thing, and the end of times only motivated her in terms of survival.

She’d do this for Ozpin, and then he’d owe _her._

That’s how it worked. Business, and nothing else.

“You’re doing it again,” Taiyang said, breaking the fog of her thoughts.

Raven blinked, meeting his eyes. He smiled, pretending to knock against his skull. 

“You’re getting stuck in there again,” he said. “We’re on vacation, Raven. You promised.”

Raven sighed, waving thoughts of Ozpin away. She shifted the towel in her arms. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Tai blinked in surprise at the apology, then grinned. “All right! No seriousness tonight. We’ve done enough sparring and enough studying. We can prove ourselves in battle when it’s our turn, but for now, it’s nothing but relaxation.”

“Yeah!” Summer said from in front of them, a fist rising into the air. “What do you think the hot springs are like?”

“Hot,” Raven said.

Tai laughed. “I bet they’re really nice. I’m not even sure students are supposed to be in them.”

“We’re not,” Summer said, her face a grin. “Professor Ozpin gave me his access code and told me not to ‘earn any unwanted attention.’”

“Sweet,” Taiyang said. “Do you think he’d get in trouble for letting us in?”

“I don’t think Ozpin gets in trouble for anything,” Raven said flatly. “But it would be a good idea for us not to draw attention.”

“No problem!” Summer exclaimed, as they passed a sign for the springs. “We’ll just sneak in for a few hours, and none will be the wiser!”

They came to a metal fence, a digital keypad at the gate. Summer punched in a code and the gate swung open silently.

“Sweet,” Taiyang whispered again. 

They closed the gate behind them, eyes turning eagerly to the hot springs. Two large pools lay steaming in the snowy landscape, flanked on each side by tables of perfectly white towels and carafes of water. A few others were present: older guests that were either visiting faculty or upper-class students also let in by obliging professors. In the evening, the area was lit only by soft ivory lights, rounded bulbs glowing like large fireflies. Somewhere, invisible speakers murmured soothing classical music over the water.

“It’s so pretty!” Summer whispered.

Even Raven had to agree that the scene was appealing; Beacon – and now Atlas – made her feel constantly on guard. Maybe relaxing would clear her head and refocus her attention on what really mattered.

“Who would have thought there was a hot spring in a place like this?” Summer said, bubbly with excitement.

“And the view’s nice too,” Tai said, his eyes following a woman in a bikini.

Raven felt a tremor of irritation, punching Tai’s shoulder.

“Ouch!”

“Keep your eyes to yourself,” Raven snapped.

“What if I keep them on you?”

The irritation eased.

“Fine,” she said shortly. Best not to let Tai know when he had said something right, or else he might start thinking on his own too much.

“It’s too bad Qrow couldn’t make it.”

Raven scoffed. “With his luck, the hot spring would freeze over.” 

Summer and Taiyang laughed.

“How about that corner in the back?” Tai said, pointing to a darker area of one of the pools. “Avoid attention and all that?”

“It looks so dark and romantic,” Summer sighed, leading the way. “Too bad I don’t have what you guys have.”

“There’s enough of me to go around,” Taiyang said, grinning.

Raven rolled her eyes, untying her bathrobe and kicking off her slippers. 

Tai paused, eyes widening at the sight of her bathing suit.

 _He’s better when he’s not talking,_ Raven thought smugly, sinking into the warm water.

Summer followed suit, splashing childishly as she hit the water, giggling until she missed her footing and disappeared under the surface for a moment, spluttering and coughing when she reappeared. 

Tai settled next to Raven, an arm slipping around her waist.

“Looks like you cursed us,” Tai said, nodding his head toward the gate.

Raven turned to see Qrow sauntering up to them, a towel over one shoulder, clad in nothing but a red speedo.

She made a noise of disgust and turned away.

“Man,” Qrow said, grinning at them. “It has been a day!”

“There you are!” Summer exclaimed. “We haven’t seen you since lunch! Where were you?”

Qrow shrugged. “I was busy. What have you guys been up to?”

“I've been trying to organize a Hide and Seek tournament,” Taiyang said, in the tone that Raven knew foretold a bad joke. “But it’s not easy. Good players are hard to find.”

A _very_ bad joke.

Despite it, Raven found herself biting her lip to keep from smiling.

“I’m also reading a book about anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put down.”

Summer laughed aloud, and Taiyang looked victorious when Raven turned her head to hide a giggle.

“Wanna hear a joke about a piece of paper?” he said, goaded on by their appreciation. “Never mind… it’s _tear_ able.”

Qrow splashed Tai in the face, groaning. “You’re going to make me leave again.”

Tai only laughed again, wiping his eyes.

“You’re such a _dad,”_ Summer said. “Your kids will have to learn how to summon you: create a circle of socks and sandals, put three tropical shirts in the middle, then change the thermostat.”

“Hey!” Tai objected, plastering an outraged expression on his face. “…actually that would work.”

“Oh, no,” Raven murmured. 

She couldn’t exactly disagree with Summer’s description; Taiyang was father material, down to the bad fashion and worse jokes. But he was also the important things: patient and kind and gentle. He wasn’t terribly clever, but he was genuine.

The thought of children with Taiyang wasn’t as horrible as she expected it to be.

She shook off the sentimentality, rousing herself back to the conversation, where Tai and Qrow were arguing over style.

“Hey! Power and good sandals are expensive!”

“And the tropical shirts?” Qrow countered.

Taiyang shrugged. “Bright colors are a nice change!” His voice softened. “They make you happy.”

“Oo,” Summer cooed. “Raven should add some color to her wardrobe! It would make her less serious!”

Taiyang laughed. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

“I wear red,” Raven said flatly. “Blood red.”

“Yeah, see, I think that’s what she means,” Tai said.

Qrow craned his head toward the gate, as though he heard something “Hold that thought,” he said, climbing out of the water. He disappeared beyond their view, the rest of his team following with their eyes.

“Did he see something?” Summer asked.

“I didn’t,” Tai said. “Raven?”

Raven only shook her head, wondering what new bullshit her twin had gotten into now. 

“Isn’t that the girl Qrow was walking with the other day?” Summer asked.

Raven looked up to find a slim, scruffy-haired girl approaching, a patch over one eye.

Calico. 

They had only met once, and briefly, but Raven knew the type: mischievous, ingenuine, every smile hiding something vaguely sinister.

Just like Qrow.

Needless to say, Raven remained unimpressed. 

“Is there room for more?” she asked, grinning at them.

“Of course!” Summer exclaimed, shuffling over to make room. “Any friend of Qrow’s! You’re Calico, right?”

 _Of course_ their illustrious team leader didn’t have a suspicion in the world. 

Calico’s visible eyebrow shot up at the familiarity. _Good,_ Raven thought. So she didn’t know Qrow had already let the cat out of the bag. Not that he said much. But Raven knew better. 

Calico sat beside Summer, leaving space for someone missing.

Qrow.

“Yes. And you’re Summer Rose, Taiyang Xiao Long, and Raven Branwen. Am I correct?” Calico beamed. 

Her insincerity was a false as the need for that patch on her eye. Damn it, Qrow. What were you getting us into now?

“That’s amazing! How did you know?” Summer exclaimed.

“Yeah, are we famous now?” Taiyang responded with equal enthusiasm, faltering only when Raven kicked him under the cover of the hot springs.

“The twins are,” Calico gestured at Raven. “Where I come from anyway.”

“Awe, man,” Taiyang visibly slumped. “Why’s it always Qrow?”

“Famous how?” Raven narrowed her gaze, eyes turning into daggers.

“You skipped prep school to get straight into the academy. Not many can do that.”

“You did,” Raven chanced.

“I did,” Calico smirked, reclining against the hot spring ledge. “You lot are from Beacon, right?” Calico said.

“And you’re from Mistral,” Raven countered.

The girl laughed, “Right again. You must have me pegged.”

Raven felt her muscles tense, before she forced them to relax. Right as Raven may be, that meant little in the form of relief… but at least it was familiar. 

She could handle her. Take her in a fight if she had to.

“You’re from Mistral?” Summer asked oblivious of the unspoken exchanges. “Oh that’s so great! What’s it like there? I’ve always wanted to go. The bazaars, the markets…”

“The bandits,” Raven responded pointedly at Calico.

“It’s definitely more colorful than here,” Calico replied, unfazed. “Since we focus on trade so much, we get goods from all over the world.”

“Eclectic,” Tai said. “I like it.”

Raven restrained rolling her eyes again.

Calico nodded, stretching out with a yawn. “We get pretty much every kind of person coming through at some point.”

Summer leaned in. “I heard you can actually work _side by side_ next to a Faunus!”

“Yep. Pretty common there,” Calico said with a shrug. “They aren’t allowed in high positions. But living like a poor person is better than being a slave.”

Raven snorted. “If you aren’t your own boss, you _are_ a slave.”

“Raven!” Tai hissed. “That’s not true.”

This time, Raven didn’t bother restraining the eye roll.

Calico shrugged. “She’s right to a degree. Everyone is working on acceptance, but there’s always discrimination. Human or Faunus.”

“I hope someday everyone is accepted and treated equally,” Summer said. 

Raven snorted. “Like with Taiyang and Mr. Snugglytuff.”

Taiyang rounded on her immediately. “I-! Hang on – I never told you about that!”

Summer broke in. “Everyone found out during that fight in the dorm…”

Taiyang sighed. “Damn. Even Mr. Snugglytuff was hit. Those stains were impossible to hide and hard to explain.”

Summer giggled, then sat up, pointing. “Qrow is back!”

The team turned in unison to where their missing member reappeared, wearing a towel with a comically large bulge underneath.

Raven sighed.

“Everybody miss me?” Qrow grinned, and then dropped the towel.

Raven dropped her eyes, knowing what was coming, but Tai made a noise of disgust.

“Dude!”

Summer put a hand over her face, her cheeks red. “Where did your speedo go?”

“What speedo?” Qrow asked, a splash following the question.

Raven’s eyes narrowed, studying her twin’s response.

Taiyang coughed. “We have _company.”_ He gestured toward Calico.

“I don’t mind,” the girl said, grinning, eyes trailing over Qrow.

“Gross,” Raven said.

Qrow laughed, rummaging for his abandoned towel, revealing a bag beneath it. “Move over, and put hide this in your luggage when you get back to our room,” he said, handing it to Tai.

“…what’s in it?”

“Don’t you trust me?” Qrow asked, reclining an arm against the ledge.

Without looking, Calico seemed to mirror Qrow’s movement, relaxing against the rocks, her arm following suit.  
“Dude, not at all.”

“Harsh,” Qrow said. “No reason for that.”

“Do you want it alphabetized or by date?”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “It won’t be like last time.”

“You mean when you said, ‘This is going better than I thought it would?’”

“That time,” Qrow said, tilting his head to the left.

This time, Raven watched Calico pointedly, the girl tilting her head the opposite direction.  
Tai continued, “And I asked, ‘What are you talking about? We’re being held at gunpoint!’”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t shoot us, did they?” Qrow said, indignant.

Calico didn’t miss a moment, her eyebrows arching in unison with Qrow’s.

“Because they missed!” Taiyang protested. “That still leaves us between getting banned from a safety training and waking up on a mattress in the middle of a lake surrounded by angry villagers with pitch forks.”

Qrow laughed, Calico echoing his hearty chuckles. “Yeah…that was a shitty hangover to wake up to.”

Raven rolled her eyes to herself. So the girl was hoping to impress Qrow through imitation. A cheap trick that even Qrow’s ego would see through.

 _She won’t last,_ Raven thought. _None of the girls last summer did._

“But you want me to trust you _this_ time.”

Calico reached for the bag. “Well if he won’t take it, I will. I’ve already got a bottle of bourbon, some Dust, and a shovel in my trunk. Are you in?”

Qrow looked impressed. “Is this something I’m going to need pants for?”

“Optional.”  
The rest of his team groaned in unison.

“Relax!” Calico laughed. “I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

“She’s good at not getting caught,” Qrow admitted approvingly.

“That’s not the same thing!” Summer objected.

“It’s what matters,” Raven said, agreeing despite her distrust of Calico.

“Someone here has some sense,” Qrow said.

“Why am I not surprised it seems like you two know each other really well already?” Tai asked, sighing.

“Because I always find the fun,” Qrow said, winking.

“And he has good taste,” Calico said, returning the wink, her hand trailing Qrow’s shoulder.

Summer sighed, relenting. “Okay. But…do you have a plan to counteract…”

“Does she know about your Semblance?” Raven asked. There was a chance – slim – that Calico might back off if she knew how much trouble Qrow was without trying.

“His Semblance doesn’t scare me,” Calico said. “I’m excellent at vocal manipulation.”

“Vocal manipulation,” Summer repeated. “How is that a skill?”

“In addition to being able to crack any voice-recognition software,” she returned in Summer’s own voice, “it’s generally wonderful for espionage, a fun party trick, and a great way to get someone else in trouble.”

Summer’s mouth fell open. “That’s amazing! Do Raven!”

“I’ll do you one better,” Calico said, in a perfect imitation of Taiyang’s voice.

“Ohh,” Summer breathed. “She’s excellent!”

“This can only get us into trouble,” Tai said, voicing Raven’s own concerns. “I think we should leave before we can’t plead innocent on a stand.”

“Agreed,” Raven said.

“Just… be careful, you two,” Summer said, eyes darting from Qrow to Calico.  
“We’ll be fine,” Qrow said.

Summer shot him a skeptical glance as she climbed out of the water, Tai handing her a towel.

“When you both end up in an Atlas prison,” Raven said flatly, “don’t bother calling us.”

***

Qrow watched his team leave, turning a grin back to Calico. “How many of them do you have down now?”

Calico cleared her throat, Summer’s voice returning. “Okay team! Let’s kick some serious butt today! And afterwards, we can have ice cream!”

“Not bad, but she’s easy.”

Raven’s voice followed: “I was going to donate blood today, but they always ask way too many personal questions. ‘Whose blood is this? Where did you get it?’”

Qrow chuckled. “Good, but Raven would never donate blood.”

Raven’s voice shifted to Tai seamlessly. “What do you call a bird with a drinking problem? An owlcoholic!”

Qrow groaned. “I hate you for that one.”

Calico’s voice returned, a grin following. “You still want that bourbon, bird boy?”  
Qrow’s expression softened. “…I hate you,” he said again, a note of affection creeping in. He waded to the edge of the pool and grabbed a towel, offering it to her.

“So when you were me,” he asked, “were you anatomically correct?”

Calico watched Qrow climb out of the water, raising an eyebrow. “Wanna find out?”

“Why do I feel like you just asked if I want to fuck myself?” Qrow said.

Calico laughed, leaning in as he wrapped an arm around her and led her away from the hot springs.

***

Professor Ozpin sat in the lower stands of the Atlas auditorium, popcorn and a mug of coffee at his side, almost leaned back in his chair, almost paying attention to the fight immediately below him.

 _Almost_ relaxed.

Two days after the incident with the tank, and the headmaster thought, with another two weeks, he would stop fretting about every electronic ping and trill that might signal some disastrous war-inducing event from Qrow Branwen.

Two days of near- silence from Team STRQ, excepting Summer Rose’s reports after their practice, and to confirm the team’s battle schedule.

Ozpin hardly knew whether to be relieved or suspicious, and so remained throughout his days in a purgatory of both, fluctuating so rapidly between both extremes that General Barrack even asked if he was feeling well after he politely refused a third slice of chocolate cinnamon coffee cake at breakfast.

He excused himself from social invitations, and, after more than one antacid tablet (he had decidedly _not_ had to deal with acid reflux in his last few past lives), settled into the faculty-reserved stands to watch the Festival’s first scheduled fights.

Team STRQ wasn’t on the roster until tomorrow, but Team GILD of Beacon was scheduled for the afternoon. It was unlikely that they would succeed through more than two teams, but Ozpin recognized their potential – if only they could stop bickering amongst themselves long enough to cooperate. In a way, they were very much like Team STRQ in their first year; in time, perhaps Team GILD would find their stride.

Ozpin found himself staring at the fight before him without seeing, his thoughts returning to Qrow Branwen.

 _Perfectly rude of him,_ Ozpin thought peevishly, although he couldn’t tell if he meant Qrow’s absence for two days, or his occupation in Ozpin’s mind.

Instead of thinking about it, the headmaster shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

It was little use to be annoyed; after all, silence from Qrow at the very least meant that the student was not _caught_ doing all the things Ozpin was certain he was doing, and Ozpin had a quiet set of rooms with exceptional service and comparatively little work to do while in Atlas. 

He also had a host with an unparalleled generosity for sweets, and no deputy headmistress to lecture him on proper meals.

Ferra, despite her incessant complaints about being in charge at Beacon in Ozpin’s absence, was clearly enjoying it. With Team STRQ gone, the school ran as smoothly as a combat school could, and Ozpin suspected that Ferra’s workload was greatly exaggerated. She had, before he left, insisted there was no way that both he and she could stay in Atlas for the Festival; but after a few days, she conceded to visit for a weekend, when no classes were in session and she had the most chance of “avoiding the place burning down.”

Perhaps Ozpin could coax even Ferra Agrios into a little rest and relaxation.

If he could figure out how to do the same for himself.

The fight ended with a blaring of horns that made the headmaster start in his seat. He blinked, eyes turning up to the video feed above, where it appeared Team NFRA of Mistral had taken the victory. From across the auditorium, the Mistral faculty box rose and cheered. Ozpin caught sight of Professor Lionheart and waved; Leo seemed to shrink at the recognition, offering a nervous wave in return.

Not that Leo could be blamed; at breakfast, Ozpin caught sight of the distinct and unexpected twitch of a tail poking out from the headmaster’s waistband. Ozpin cleared his throat quietly and motioned downward; Leo had turned quite pale, readjusting his clothing until the telltale sign was hidden anew. Leo fell almost silent, eyes returning again and again to Ozpin, who merely smiled, offering to refresh his colleague’s tea.

This did not appear to reassure Leo, who flinched every time, as though Ozpin’s smiles and courtesy was a front - as though he expected Ozpin to use this secret information against him.

A paranoia that was, Ozpin mused, not inherently incorrect.

At least there was one other headmaster less social than himself.

Ozpin leaned back and reached for his mug, pausing when it suddenly appeared he was no longer alone in his box.

The popcorn in the seat beside him, now tipped and scattered over the chair and ground, boasted the distinct wriggling form of a bird, half-concealed in the bag.

Ozpin blinked, and then, despite himself, felt a smile tug at his lips.

“I would have shared, had you asked politely,” the headmaster said.

The crow’s head appeared from the depths of popcorn, and cawed.

“Yes, well, perhaps I was distracted,” Ozpin said. “There _was_ a fight happening, after all.”

Qrow cawed again, as though hearing the lie in the headmaster’s voice.

He always could see through Ozpin’s facades.

Qrow hopped out of the bag, ruffling butter-slick feathers, wriggling his tail in a manner so comical that Ozpin pressed his lips together to avoid looking amused. He reached over the bird and rescued what was left of his popcorn, motioning at the pieces strewn about.

“You really should clean up after yourself,” he said.

Qrow chirped, hopping around the seat as he picked up each piece, crunching them loudly in his beak. For a minute Ozpin merely watched, Qrow happily bouncing from one kernel to the next, until the chair was clean once more. With a pleased squawk, he rounded on Ozpin, eyes glinting at the bag.

“How much can you eat in this form?” Ozpin murmured, offering a piece in his palm.

Qrow merely cawed, the popcorn disappearing, offering Ozpin’s hand a brief nuzzle.

“Oh, I see,” the headmaster said. “This is how you think to win back my affection. Very cute.”

But even Ozpin couldn’t keep the note of amusement from his voice; it was so very difficult to watch the crow bounce and preen and harbor the same disappointment he had two days ago.

It was transparent enough for Qrow, who cawed and sprang upon the headmaster’s shoulder, wiggling against his scarf.

“No, I still don’t forgive you,” Ozpin said, the question evident.

Qrow chirped and settled upon his shoulder, clearly indicating that the bird would not leave until a statement of clemency had been extracted, coerced by a frankly _unfair_ display of animal innocence. 

Ozpin sighed, lifting a kernel up to Qrow, who happily sat and consumed all that was offered, until together they emptied the bag. With a quiet cheep, Qrow nestled against Ozpin’s scarf, eyes beginning to close.

 _He’s impossible,_ Ozpin thought wistfully, lifting a hand to run a finger gently down the bird’s back. Qrow chirped without opening his eyes, his form melting as he dozed.

 _Absolutely impossible,_ the headmaster thought again, but this time it was accompanied only by warmth, by the quiet, faraway acknowledgment that Qrow could never truly do anything to cause Ozpin to revoke his careful affection.


	7. In which Ozpin gains an admirer and Qrow finds out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested song: "Fucking Boyfriend" by the bird and the bee

Professor Veronica Thistle sat in the faculty stands of the Atlas auditorium, stifling a yawn as a new student battle was announced. Still none of her own students from Shade Academy were called; she shifted in her seat impatiently, fidgeting with the bucket of popcorn as yet another uninteresting fight began. 

She flipped in her chair so that her legs were propped over the arm rest, the bucket on her abdomen as she absently shoveled popcorn into her mouth. The entire Vytal festival bored her; the few Vacuo students who had been called to battle had been proven ineffective, predictable. Most had lost in moments of sheer inadequacy. Those who won did so with the flair of uninspired brute force. Professor Thistle had a number of invigorating ideas to retrain them to better showcase the true spirit of Vacuo when they returned.

Speaking of invigorating - the headmaster of Vale's Beacon Academy appeared at the top of the stairs. 

Professor Thistle straightened in her chair, popcorn spilling over the top of the bucket as she smoothed her violet dress and flipped back her long hair. The Vytal Festival might have bored her to tears were it not for the presence of Professor Ozpin. She had met him upon arrival; he had the easy charm of someone accustomed to civil niceties but the reserve of someone who preferred to avoid them. 

Veronica liked that very much.

In fact, she was certain she liked _Ozpin_ very much. She had thought him much older at first - a gut reaction to the silver hair - but then he had taken off his glasses to clean them with a black handkerchief and she had to pause to stare, struck by the youthful features hiding behind aged frames. 

In that moment, the Vytal festival was suddenly much more interesting.

She hadn't been granted much time to speak with Ozpin beyond professional matters, a few stolen moments between meetings and events. The lack of a properly intimate conversation frustrated her; when he wasn't in meetings or his borrowed quarters, Ozpin seemed constantly flanked by one of his students, a young thing with dark hair and a darker expression, daring anyone to approach the headmaster.

But now - delightfully alone. She granted Ozpin a dazzling smile as he took a seat beside her.  
"Good afternoon, Professor Ozpin," she said, her inflection rising with his proximity. "Lovely day for the festival, isn't it?" 

Two minutes ago, she would have cursed the cool weather to the depths of hell itself, but now – 

"Good afternoon, Professor Thistle," came the reply, his voice as always, calm, composed, with the hint of finding something amusing. The man could read a dictionary and keep her intrigued. 

"Veronica," she corrected with another smile. She wasn't being subtle; the festival would only last for so long before they were both off to their own kingdoms and thus far Ozpin had shown her every courtesy of a perfectly oblivious gentleman. Under normal circumstances Veronica would have found the coyness charming, but under a strict romantic deadline, she pulled out the need for delicacy. 

"Veronica," Ozpin repeated politely. She wondered what inflection he would give her name in _other_ scenarios. 

"Any of them yours?" she asked, nodding toward the arena.

"It appears not," Ozpin said, brown eyes surveying the field over his glasses. "Although I suspect one of my teams will be called soon enough."

"Any team in particular?"

"STRQ. One of my best."

"I do hope they're called against a team from Vacuo," Veronica said. "Wouldn't it be thrilling to be pitted against one another. Popcorn?"

Ozpin chuckled. "One of my weaknesses. Thank you." He accepted the offer of the bucket tilted in his direction.

"Oh?" she teased. "I'm shocked that someone like you has any weaknesses. I'm terribly curious to know if there are more."

"It's perfectly human to have weaknesses," Ozpin replied, "although I'm not certain it would be wise to declare them so freely."

Another polite dismissal. 

Veronica frowned internally. If Ozpin was aware of her flirting, he was pretending to be oblivious. She found the hard-to-get tactic tired and somehow still effective.

"Perhaps if I admit mine first?" she asked, the tone lingering. "I, for example, find it impossible to resist chocolate, or lavender tea. Or," she added, her tone dropping, complete with a coy sideways glance, "a well put together gentleman aching to be roughed up."

Was that the hint of a blush? She couldn't quite tell in the harsh lights of the auditorium. She leaned in at the absence of a direct rebuff -  
The ring of a scroll stopped her. Ozpin glanced at her for only a second before reaching in his coat pocket.

"Excuse me for one moment, Professor Thistle," he said, rising from his seat.

She watched him exit the faculty stands with the heaviness of disappointment. Sighing dramatically, Veronica flopped back into her chair with legs askew over the arm rests again, shoving popcorn into her mouth with abandon. She wasn't quite ready to give up on the shy Beacon headmaster quite yet. In fact, his demure nature only intensified her desire to ruffle that polished exterior.

***

Ferra Agrios stepped off the airship with shaky legs, her stomach churning. Her entire life spent manipulating gravity and it never failed to make her nauseous. She might have appreciated the irony if it had happened to someone else.

She let the automated machines that Atlas used in lieu of actual courtesy service guide her to the guest quarters. Two minutes off the awful, lurching airship and she was already certain she would find the kingdom no better; everything was stark white and polished silver, the smell of everything too sterile to be comfortable. The robot men creeped her out as well, their faceless, staring eyes nothing more than intimidating, empty sockets, a faint red light emitting when a shadow fell over them. Everything about them was cold - the eyes, the stilted voice boxes, the weather itself lending them a film of condensation when they entered the scarcely heated indoors. 

She could not understand the appeal of Atlas at all. 

Ozpin met her and her mechanical escorts in the corridor outside her accommodations. 

"Ferra," he said, his smile genuine. "Glad to see you take a day off for once."

"Pot, kettle," she muttered, her innards still protesting despite solid ground. "Glad to be here, sir." 

"You're not," the headmaster said with a chuckle, "but thank you for the polite lie. How do you like Atlas?"

"Delightful," Ferra deadpanned. 

"Thank you, that will be all," Ozpin said to the robots. The machines turned without a word, metallic stomping following their movements down the hall.

"Charming," Ferra said, turning to her door. "Do we have adjoining rooms?"

"It appears so," Ozpin said. "My, my, what rumors might spread."

"You're not my type, sir," Ferra said flatly.

Ozpin merely chuckled again. "Your bags arrived before you. I hope you'll find everything to your comfort." 

"I doubt it, but it will do. So. What do you do on vacation? Well," she added. "Not you. Other people."

"There's a banquet dinner tonight at seven, if you'd like to continue to torture yourself with Atlas hospitality. I hear their cuisine is quite...minimalist."

"Is there an open bar?"

Ozpin raised an eyebrow. "I hadn't noticed."

"For such an observant man, you're perfectly oblivious to the important things. Come on, take me to see some students beat each other senseless."

"Of course," the headmaster said, offering his arm to her. 

Ferra sighed, but accepted the offer regardless. Ozpin may be a mysterious, pig-headed old man, but at least he had manners. 

Ferra was no more impressed by the auditorium than the rest of the university. More white, more metal, more damnably cold weather. Ozpin, clad in his suit and scarf, looked perfectly at home. She concealed a snort of discontent. 

The faculty boxes granted a prime view of the arena, the vastness of the field a pleasant sight even to Ferra. A battle was already in progress, teams from Vacuo and Mistral, names she didn't recognize as up-and-comers. 

A young woman was the only occupant of the faculty seats, wearing a gown of some clingy violet color that gave Ferra pause, wondering what kingdom allowed their professors to dress in such unprofessional ways.

Then again, culture was culture, and perhaps Ferra was being unduly harsh due to illness.

"Ferra, I believe you and Professor Thistle have met before, at the last Vytal Festival."

Ah, yes. Ferra remembered Veronica Thistle. A young, impulsive sort of woman who had once made a comment about the "uniqueness" of Beacon students in the tone that equated the word with uncivilized. As if Vacuo had any room to talk about civilization. Nevertheless, Ferra offered a hand forward when Professor Thistle turned her head, sweeping long dark hair from her neck in what Ferra thought was an overly exaggerated manner. 

"Professor Agrios," she said, her voice all honey. "Pleasure to see you again." Her dark eyes fluttered to where Ozpin held Ferra's arm in his, a subtle change coming over her features. "I didn't know you were coming."

"It was unplanned," she said. "Professor Ozpin insisted."

Ferra was rewarded with a brief furrow of Veronica's brow, the young woman's displeasure obvious for only a moment.

_Ah,_ Ferra thought. 

So the poor stupid thing had a crush on Ozpin. 

She considered the situation but could find no real objection beyond disliking the woman herself; if Ozpin ever eventually caught on, Ferra supposed she could feign some amount of happiness for the couple. 

For a moment or two.

The truth was that Ferra didn't have the slightest inkling of Ozpin's romantic preferences. She knew from the Historical Masquerade that he danced with both men and women, but the attachment never seemed to grow beyond that. He had joked, she vaguely recalled, about a man who owned a café, but she could never tell if his lightheartedness was merely that, or if it hid a degree of truth.

It really was none of her business. 

_Perhaps,_ she thought, _until now._

No, she would not be petty simply for petty's sake. She took a seat that allowed Veronica to remain directly beside Ozpin. The young woman caught the move; regarding Ferra with both gratitude and suspicion, but quickly leaving both behind to turn her simpering attentions back to the headmaster.

"You missed most of this battle, Ozpin," Veronica remarked. "A shame, as my students were especially impressive."

"Truly a shame," Ozpin agreed. "They do look quite talented."

"I do hope that wasn't _all_ you missed," Veronica said, her voice rising with hyperbolic coyness. 

Ferra rose from her seat abruptly. "Where is the bar in this place?"

"The snack bar?" Veronica asked, the movement and question startling her out of her flirtatious trance.

"Sure, that will do," Ferra said.

"Up the stands and to be right."

"Thank you," Ferra said curtly, marching back up the stairs and away from whatever cringe-worthy mating behavior the young woman may have yet planned.

***

The snack bar at Atlas sucked. The building was white, the stands were white, even the snacks were white. Seriously. These people had no imagination. It all blended in with the surrounding snowy weather.

The least they could do was have a white alcohol for a quick celebratory drink, but _nooooo._

This fact, perhaps, was the most upsetting. Qrow was going to have to find his congratulations elsewhere when some unsuspecting faculty member were asleep. 

Or preoccupied in five minutes.

Qrow posted himself at the corner of the snack bar and surveyed his potential targets. Distraught teachers always had the best loot, so he watched for the clues: heavy stomps, clenched fists, grinding teeth...it was amusing how much those traits fit the new lifeless machines the academy implemented. But they didn't carry booze.

Spotting the characteristic stomp, clenched fists and - _Professor Agrios?_

What the hell was she doing here?

The student approached for closer inspection. "Professor Agrios. I didn’t know you’d be here," he said, almost jovially.

"Mr. Branwen." Ferra paused, surprised and – what that _relief_ at seeing the student amidst the crowds of strangers and creepy robot soldiers? "Finally, a face I don't entirely want to hit. I'm here for the festival of course." Her tone indicated all her disdain for the event and the kingdom in which it was held.

“Welcome to Atlas, then,” Qrow said. “It sucks. Did you come up here for something to eat?”

She glanced at the uninspired snack bar, looking green. 

“I’m not hungry. I just had to remove myself as the obvious third wheel in the stands. Your motive I already suspect. Scrounging for liquor already?" she asked, with a snort. "For once I can't fault you. I could use a drink myself."

Hands thrown up in a casual shrug, the student chuckled. "For once you aren't going to blame me?" Qrow's eyes darted to another target more than a hundred yards away. "Actually, give me one minute…”

The young man disappeared into the crowd. A moment later, he reappeared drinking from a large, poorly masked canister. 

One, two, three solid drinks, then he extended the flask to Ferra, shaking it lightly in temptation. "Celebrate with me? I kicked ass in the arena."

“The amount of debauchery you get away with,” Ferra sighed, taking the flask without another word, tipping it down her throat.

Qrow only smirked.

"At least this place has good booze," she said. "Not a word of this to your headmaster, Branwen."

"If you don't say anything, I won't." Qrow looked over the deputy headmistress again. Something was definitely still eating at her.

"Do you hate Atlas so much you are willing to take up drinking with your least favorite student?" he teased, but Qrow knew he was definitely not her most hated student. Ferra had turned a blind eye many times over the years - perhaps simply only because Ozpin himself had agreed to take full responsibility for the troublemaker - but it had significantly lightened her load. And there were other students far less charming.

"Oh, I'm only a bit sick from the damned airship sent to fetch me," Ferra said. "It makes me hate everything - the weather, the lack of a proper bar, the polite conversation I'll have to force at dinner tonight." 

A pause for her to snort derisively. "And your headmaster's new flirt is positively insufferable. Couldn't stand to be around her for more than a minute, so I threw him to the wolves and I'm not even a little sorry about it."

Qrow stopped mid-drink. He almost spat out the liquor. He hoped he heard her wrong, but the look on Ferra's face told the student better. 

Making an effort to mask his immediate disdain for the creature daring to encroach upon his territory, he laughed casually. "Someone’s trying to flirt with Ozpin? I almost feel sorry for her. He is denser than the damn robots when it comes to that." 

He paused, passing the alcohol to the professor again, hoping it might loosen her lips more. "...I take it you don't like her then?"

"Mmhmm," Ferra agreed, taking another generous drink. "She's not my favorite person in the kingdom. From Vacuo, and she had all the subtlety of a desert desperate for water. I couldn't stand to watch her throw herself at him. I'm nauseous enough without watching that particular crime scene." 

Another pull from the flask and she handed it off to Branwen once again. She eyed him warily, recognizing the alteration in his mood. 

"Look, Branwen," she said, clearly trying not to lecture him. "We haven't been the best of friends the way you and the headmaster are. Frankly, I expect you two to irritate me into an early grave. But I'm not blind. I know what’s going on even if Ozpin doesn’t. So whatever you may be planning against Professor Thistle..." 

She paused.

Qrow waited. 

What exactly _did_ Agrios think was going on?

"Just...don't let Ozpin find out they're coming from you."

Qrow beamed at the approval, his tone innocent. "I have _no_ idea what you’re talking about." 

Clearly Ferra _wanted_ to watch the woman suffer or she wouldn't have so willingly provided the professor's name. 

This was going to be fun. 

Downing the remainder of the spirits, Qrow handed the flask back to Ferra, knowing she could refill it easier than him. "Something tells me you’ll need this. And Professor Agrios - don't use the spices tonight. A little birdy told me they aren't that great here."

Another mischievous twinkle in the youth's eye signaled his exit. In all the years he had known Professor Agrios, after all the hell he had inadvertently subjected her to, he still admired her.

At the very least, the thought of having Agrios as an ally in a prank war was too good to be true.

***

Ferra watched Branwen saunter off, the casual gait a mere facade for the trouble he was already planning. She almost - if only for a moment - felt badly for slipping Professor Thistle's name to him. She glanced ruefully at the empty flask and then stowed it safely away in her pocket.

The sympathy would pass. 

She made her way back to the stands, wondering if she would find some tawdry scene awaiting her. But no, Veronica had scooted as closely as she could toward the headmaster, but Ozpin was still as polite and oblivious as ever, not giving her fluttering eyelashes and schoolgirl hair flips more than a glance. 

_The poor, stupid thing,_ Ferra thought again. Veronica had no idea the powers of Ozpin's immunity to flirting, or of Qrow's fiercely territorial behavior. Ferra believed Veronica would find neither to her liking. 

As Ferra approached the stands, Veronica shot her an unwelcome glance. 

_Charming,_ Ferra thought dryly. 

"What have I missed?" she asked, resuming her previous seat.

"The last battle was rather interesting," Ozpin offered. "A student from Mistral has the semblance to pass through solid objects. It was quite the thing to witness in action."

"Yes, it was thrilling," Veronica said in a tone that indicated the opposite. "Find the snack bar?"

"I did," Ferra said. "And Branwen and I had a lovely chat."

Ozpin glanced at her. "Did you? I'm happy to hear that." His scroll buzzed with a notification and he busied himself with this new distraction. "Ah, it's regarding the reservations for tonight. Ferra, could you take this? I'm in the mood for popcorn again." So saying, he handed her the scroll.

"Dinner is in a few hours," Ferra called after him. "Don't ruin your entire appetite."

Ozpin responded with a wave as he vanished up the stairs, leaving Ferra alone with her new friend. Veronica twisted in her seat until she had both elbows on the armrest, her chin in her hands and her eyes on Ferra.

"So," she said, her tone all business. "What are you to him?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know what I mean. Assistant, babysitter, mother, lover, old acquaintance who should have retired ten years ago?"

Ferra clenched her jaw. She did not need this. Not without more of Branwen's pilfered liquor. 

"I'm his employee," she said flatly, "and he is my boss and my friend."

"Friend," Professor Thistle repeated disdainfully. "So you never went for it."

"I was never interested in _it,"_ Ferra said icily. "Some of us prefer to keep our professional relationships _professional."_

Veronica raised a single eyebrow. "I can't imagine why Oz keeps you around with such a piss-poor attitude. Perhaps you're just good at your job." She paused a moment, clearly not done. "Or you're good at _other_ things."

"Better than you, honey," Ferra said without thinking, rage rapidly building at the young woman's insolence. Fifteen minutes ago, Ferra couldn't have given two figs if Ozpin and this two-bit whore of an educator in a purple plastic wrap dress wanted to test every bed frame in Atlas, but damned if she would allow the woman to have her way after speaking to Ferra in this manner. 

"If you'll excuse me," she said, unwilling to speak her mind. 

_Only for Ozpin,_ she thought repeatedly.

She found the headmaster as he left the snack bar with a bucket of popcorn, grabbing his free arm and jerking him back toward the guest accommodations.

"Ferra - ?"

"We're done here," she said. 

Ozpin caught the tone and went silent, for once simply obeying. "Popcorn?" he added, as they re-entered the interior corridors.

"No, thank you."

Ozpin glanced behind them, piecing together what may have occurred in his absence. "Ferra, about Professor Thistle. Is she..."

“Is she what,” Ferra said flatly.

Ozpin cleared his throat, a sign he was rephrasing something to be politer. "When you left, she asked a strange question, and I just want to be sure I understand."

_Oh boy._

"What was the question?"

Another hesitation. Ozpin already knew the answer he was asking for. "She said we should 'do breakfast' and then asked if she should call me or nudge me."

_OH BOY._

"Does that mean..."

"Sir, she was propositioning you."

Finally, the headmaster had the awareness to turn pink. 

"I see," he said, clearly uncomfortable. 

"I hope you didn't accept."

"No, no, I made my polite declination - you and I have a working breakfast planned now, by the way."

So that explained the increased hostility, Ferra thought. Well, the woman would be sorry to have ever crossed that boundary. Ferra unlocked Ozpin's scroll, skimming through the contacts.

"Is that mine?"

"Yes. Never mind. I'm sending Branwen a short message. I'm sure you have his num – ah, there it is. We spoke battle strategy earlier and I wanted to make one last addition..."

Typing as they walked, Ferra reread the message, her finger hovering over the send button.

"Branwen - no holds barred. - Agrios"

Ozpin watched the message disappear with the touch of her finger. "Done?"

"Oh, yes," Ferra said. "I think that will do fine."

***

Qrow had to check his message three times before he fully believed what was clearly printed in black and white. Yes, indeed, Professor Agrios had given him free reign to do as he pleased.

Qrow frowned. This must mean the threat was far worse than he thought. All plans for torment on other kingdoms was going to have to wait - all efforts redirected to some unsuspecting Professor from Vacuo.

A slow smile spread across the boy's lips recalling his previously planned pranks. 

He could more than handle it.

***

Professor Ozpin sat on the edge of his bed watched Ferra pace about his room, a flask he did not recognize appeared from the depths of a pocket. She was absolutely incensed; he hadn't seen her in such a state since Qrow had nearly murdered another student. He munched silently on his popcorn, his eyes following her from one end of the room to the other, spouting off every colorful insult toward Veronica Thistle he could imagine - and some he suspected she had fabricated entirely.

At length she paused, taking another long pull of the flask and sitting down beside him with such force that Ozpin dropped a few kernels of popcorn. 

"Ferra, my dear," the headmaster remarked, scooping up the errant pieces and politely disposing of them in the nearby receptacle. "I only have the vaguest notion of what occurred in the few moments I was away, but as I understand, Professor Thistle was quite rude."

"She was quite the cu - "

Ozpin cleared his throat loudly. "I understand. Really, I do. I'm sorry it happened when I was not around to rectify the situation. Rest assured I will speak to Shade Academy's headmaster after dinner. Until then, will you be able to set aside your quarrel?"

Ferra took a long breath. "Yes," she said eventually. "Only to keep the peace. But sir, you had better give her headmaster hell."

"So I shall," Ozpin said with a smile. He was not naturally inclined to be aggressive, but the headmaster had a certain ability to quietly resolve unpleasant situations. 

And another faculty member mistreating Ferra Agrios was one such unpleasant situation. 

"Good." Ferra sighed, most of her temper fading from the exhaustion of keeping it up. "I suppose we should ready for dinner. Here, you'll want this."

Ozpin took the offered flask without thinking, glancing at her curiously. "Ferra, I rarely drink..."

"Sir, I have absolutely no doubt the lovely Professor Thistle has already bribed half the Atlas caterers to sit her right beside you."

The headmaster chuckled. "I'm certain I can handle myself. I'm not helpless in these situations."

"Sir, the woman is a snake. You're her prey. You know every manner of polite rebuff and deflection invented since the dawn of time and even that won't be enough. Drink up."

Ozpin had never seen Ferra so determined. Then again, he had not known her to carry such a personal grudge. He saw eerie similarities between Ferra and Veronica Thistle in that regard, but he knew far, far better than to mention it. He merely took her at her word, and tipped the contents of the flask back.

And immediately began coughing. 

The liquor burned in a manner wholly unexpected, like whiskey chased with fire. Ferra watched in amusement as he struggled.

"Isn't it grand?" she asked. "It's like a kick to the throat. Not sure what it is, but if it's native to Atlas, I may have judged the kingdom too quickly. I want a case before we leave."

"It's...curious," Ozpin managed, his voice hoarse. 

"Have a bit more."

"No, no," the headmaster said quickly. "I think that will provide more than enough...fortification."

Ferra snorted, taking the flask back and drinking so casually Ozpin wondered if she were truly human. 

"It's a good thing you invited me here, sir," she said solemnly, "or that woman would eat you alive."

***

Those hailing from Vacuo were always proud of their ability to adapt to extreme conditions the desert presented. That and they like sand, Qrow reasoned, or they wouldn’t choose to live in a place surrounded by it.

Veronica Thistle was no exception in the young man's eyes.

Wanting to give her a taste of home away from home, he carefully screwed the salt shaker top back into position and replaced the top of the sugar shaker. 

The salt would remind her of home and the sugar would be a sweet surprise.

Stealthily retracing his steps, Qrow's eye caught sight of the vinegar. Impulse control forever a weakness of Qrow's, he snagged the bottle and generously added the contents to Professor Thistle's evening tea. 

Should go nicely with the salt. 

Hearing the kitchen tenants returning, Qrow replaced the nametag on the tray destined for Professor Thistle, then vanished out of thin air.

But this alone wouldn’t be enough. Qrow needed reinforcements beyond even Professor Agrios. He needed Calico.

She picked up on the second ring. “What’s up?”

“Wanna be my date to the banquet tonight? I have a Vacuo professor to prank until she wishes she never left the kingdom, and I need help.”

“Sounds amazing.”

“Pick you up at eight?”

“I’ll see you then.”

Qrow disconnected with a private grin.

This was a dinner he was absolutely looking forward to.


	8. In which Qrow exacts revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very long chapter this week because we couldn't bear to leave you with a cliffhanger! We won't be updating next weekend because we'll be at a con, but please enjoy this extra long chapter! 
> 
> Suggested song for this chapter: "Genghis Khan" by Miike Snow

The Vytal Festival banquet took place in a large, ballroom style room, the ceiling high and the space vast, allowing a long rectangular table to comfortably accommodate all the professors gathered by the Vytal Festival. It might have been charming had it not been for the traditional Atlas touches: polished white floors; an industrially efficient ceiling devoid of the usual characteristics of architecture; the _humstomp_ of mechanical men offering appetizers to the guests who wandered in early.

Ferra noted the lifeless servers with a displeased wrinkle of her nose, nevertheless accepting some sort of pastry from one that lurched by. 

"Arranged seating," she murmured to Ozpin, gently nudging him with an elbow. "Wish you had more of that liquor now, don’t you?"

The headmaster restrained rolling his eyes, but she saw it regardless. "With how many faculty members are here, it's highly unlikely I'll be seated next to Professor Thistle."

 _You poor stupid thing,_ Ferra thought. 

It was the anthem of the entire trip to Atlas. 

"Fine," she said. "But I will enjoy saying 'I told you so.'"

"You usually do."

"Why you don't listen to me more often is clearly a sign of insanity," she remarked, her eyes pausing on open double doors across the ballroom that let out onto an expansive balcony. "Ah, there is a bar. Blessed be this wondrous event. You're on your own until dinner, sir."

She made her way through the crowd of strangers and vaguely familiar faces until she reached the cold air of the balcony, and, thankfully, a human bartender. She dismissed his polite greeting impatiently.

"I'm looking for a sort of spiced whiskey. Something that I tried earlier and nearly made me breathe fire."

The bartender laughed. "Atlas' own fire whiskey. It's spiced like in other kingdoms, but the stuff made properly - it's meant to keep you warm no matter the weather."

"Brilliant. Charge a tab to Professor Ozpin, of Beacon."

“Drinks are complimentary, miss.”

“Oh, then make it a double.”

She took the glass and wandered off further from the growing noise of the ballroom, no longer concerned with the cold of the evening, the whiskey in hand more than formidable enough to chase it off.

***

Qrow entered the ballroom for the second time this evening – though this time not in stealth mode. Normally he would roll his eyes at the absurd grandiose space utilized for a simple meal, but in this instance, he for once thought the atmosphere fitting. This was going to be an exciting night to remember after all: congratulations on crushing the competition, foiling your enemy's lecherous plans...

Yes. It was going to be a good night.

Qrow noted the arranged seats, then promptly discarded name labels at his preferred table. He was going to sit right where he wanted - to Ozpin's right for a clear view of the bitch on the left. Judging spray, he shifted the table six inches further to the left. A poncho might be needed for the fools in front of Thistle, but luckily they had placed her own students in front of her. Thus far, they deserved what was coming to them.

Spikey red hair caught Qrow's eye and he wandered off to trail after it. He had met Calico Reed on a few occasions before and in summary - she would enjoy a front row seat. He scouted the room for her name tag, snagged it and approached the girl.

"Hey Calico," he approached eagerly in anticipation of tonight's events. "Looks like they messed up a bunch of the name tags, we have a free table if you want to join." He held out her name tag waving it enticingly. 

Calico nodded, beaming, and joined Qrow at the designated table.

"A night for musical chairs inspired by Qrow Branwen, huh?" she asked. She saw right through the boy, but he didn't seem to mind. He knew from watching her that she was similar to him - a thief, a prankster, and absolutely restless. A welcomed change from the robots edging the room. Metal ones too.

Qrow smiled in response. "Something like that," he responded off-handedly, as he brought his cup down below the table for a proper spiking.

"Hey, you have to share," Calico demanded slipping her cup below the table as well. The couple shared a secretive wink. 

"So what’s on tonight's agenda?" the girl asked.

"Hopefully, an unprofessional outburst from a slutty professor."

"Delightful!"

***

Ferra Agrios returned to the table when a soft bell sounded throughout the ballroom, seemingly from nowhere, a double of whiskey happily in her bloodstream and another in hand. She found her name placard and sat, discovering Qrow Branwen across from her. She glanced at the seating arrangements, which somehow had the disorganized air of being recently shifted.

Naturally, she wouldn't know anything about that.

"Branwen," she said, nodding a greeting over her glass. Alcohol and a peevish sense of retribution had given the student a new light in her eyes; now he was an invaluable tool, their shared sense of protection over Ozpin making them formidable allies. She had other theories regarding Qrow's motives as well, but it was none of her business beyond granting her the power for personal vengeance.

"Anything else you need to warn me about before the shit hits the fan?" she asked.

The student glanced at the girl to his right, a shared smile.

"Don't have any dessert," he said.

She gave a curt nod of understanding, ending the conversation there as Ozpin arrived. He glanced at her glass of whiskey, no doubt making a silent judgment of how much Ferra had already consumed, but she knew he would not remark on it. 

"Ferra, welcome back. And Qrow, I didn't expect you to attend. Formal affairs don't seem to be your favorite."

Qrow smiled, all faux innocence.

"They aren't, but Calico convinced me it was worth coming since we’re doing well. Appearances and all. By the way, this is Calico Reed. She’s from Mistral, the leader of Team CATZ."

Calico curtseyed – a sharp contrast to her tailored suit – before the Beacon Headmaster, "Pleasure, Headmaster Ozpin."

Qrow gestured to Ferra, "And this is - "

"Professor Ferra Agrios. My pleasure as well." 

Again the girl bowed, this time matching the masculine aesthetic of her formal black suit.

Introductions made, Ferra's attention wandered from the polite conversation, peering at the placards not yet claimed by bodies. Ozpin was to Qrow's left, and to the headmaster's other side –

Veronica Thistle sashayed up to the table, her evening gown a darker shade of violet and her long black hair pulled up in some overly complicated manner that indicated the young woman meant to impress. At her arrival, Ozpin rose, pulling out her seat for her.

Ferra sighed at the act of chivalry. The headmaster meant to be polite, but he would only encourage Thistle with such old-fashioned manners. Already the young woman was beaming at him. Ozpin glanced at Ferra, who shot him an exasperated expression. He returned the silent rebuke with a half-shrug. 

Ferra drank more.

The first course was some variety of savory pie, possibly filled, the guests were informed, with a variety of ingredients. The surprise of which filling one chose was tradition. Ferra took the first offered, more interested in Veronica Thistle's choice than her own. The pies were served with champagne, a non-traditional Atlas drink, but one meant to celebrate the Vytal Festival. 

Of course, Branwen and his Mistral friend were happy by this, with nearly all the professors at the table allowing their students to accept.

"Come now, it's a celebration," Ferra heard Veronica say. 

Ozpin had politely declined, but at the professor's insistence, he eventually accepted the glass from the mechanical waiter. 

"Perhaps just the one," he said.

Veronica giggled. "You know they say champagne is a romantic drink..."

Ferra considered tipping her own champagne down her throat in a single gulp. Instead, she looked across the table at Branwen, desperate for something to end Thistle's good mood.

"Champagne? I heard the carbonation gives you really bad gas. Not to mention it's what prostitutes name themselves after ‘cause they think it is classy," Qrow jested, loud enough to be heard across the table. "They always like champagne. Atlas should just serve the spiced whiskey they specialize in. That would really be a treat." 

Qrow facing Calico, gestured his glass (dubiously spiked) toward Professor Agrios - the toast an effortless motion in midst of his rude statements played off as flirting.

Calico leaned in to Qrow playfully touching his shoulder, laughing at his crude wit. 

Ferra hazarded a glance toward Ozpin and Veronica only several moments after Branwen's vulgar commentary, having almost snorted champagne up her nose. She admitted, tipsy from whiskey and vengeance, that Branwen's talent for trouble-making was infinitely more entertaining when she was on his side of things. Despite the coarseness of his words, there was a certain elegance to the set up, and it landed upon Veronica Thistle with the intended effect; the young woman glared at the student from behind Ozpin's back.

The headmaster himself pressed his lips together, sipped his champagne, and politely pretended he neither heard nor was amused by his student's profanity.

"It's _staggering_ the quality of students that attend these events," Thistle remarked, a touch too loudly. "Aren't the students here specifically hand-picked by their professors?"

"Oh," Ozpin said, as though he had only just remembered something important. "How careless of me. Professor Thistle, this is Qrow Branwen, one of my top students at Beacon. Mr. Branwen, Professor Thistle, of Shade Academy."

Thistle looked as though Branwen's hand was the last thing in the world she wished to touch, but at Ozpin's obliviously cheery introduction, she offered her hand regardless, the student merely staring at the offering as if uncivilized enough to understand the meaning. 

"I do beg your pardon, Professor," Ozpin continued, either ignoring the potent awkwardness of the situation or in complete denial of it, "but it has completely slipped my mind what courses you teach."

"Oh," Professor Thistle said, deflating just a little. "I specialize in tactics and weapon design."

"Ah, yes, of course. It's quite the interesting field, although I confess my personal aesthetic runs to more old-fashioned designs."

"There is nothing wrong with an old-fashioned approach," Veronica said, her sultry-simpering tone recovering from Branwen's intrusion. "Perhaps after dinner, you can show me _your_ weapon..."

Her voice trailed suggestively, and then it seemed like her glass suddenly exploded, raining champagne over her and her neighbors. A surprised exclamation, and then some mild chaos as the mess was contained. Ozpin, of course, offered the young lady a black handkerchief, politely dismissing her apologies for the trouble.

From across the table, Ferra purposely avoiding meeting Branwen's eyes, both annoyed and pleased by her lack of control that made Veronica's glass suddenly pull three times its own gravity.

***

Qrow had to catch himself before he choked on his drink - never had he seen Ferra so pissed. He smirked behind his glass, something he knew Ferra would feel.

_Time to implement the next step._

Qrow glanced at the table decanter, then at Calico, his sly companion noticing the silent cue immediately. She grasped the cloth extended to Professor Thistle from a robotic butler, then moistened it from the table decanter earnestly adding in a concerned tone, "Professor Thistle, are you all right? Here, perhaps some tea will settle better than the champagne. I hear this too is a delicacy of the region." She offered a generously poured glass from the mechanical servant to the drenched professor.

"Tea is better if you can't hold your alcohol," the young man added, again smiling behind his glass at his own clever pun. "The girls in Atlas were raving about how it makes you look younger too."

"Oh yes, we have something similar in Mistral, but it is not nearly as potent as what they have here in Atlas," Calico added, with a small wishful sigh. "Between their tea and lack of sun, it’s no wonder Atlas women have such perfect skin." 

"Yeah, it must be really hard for you out there in Vacuo, Professor Thistle. Sun _always_ blazing. Great for tanning, but terrible for wrinkles and sun spots." Setting his glass down, Qrow waited for the bait to sink, casually concealing his alcoholic contents with a lazy hand. 

Professor Thistle listened to each of Qrow's sideways compliments with an increasingly sour expression, but she accepted the offer of tea from Qrow's lady friend, trusting the girl's innocent smiles and exaggerated concern. Qrow noted with pleasure that Thistle absently touched her cheek, as though subconsciously feeling for the wrinkles he strongly suggested she had.

Ozpin, insensible to the set up occurring around him, chuckled lightly to himself. "Can't hold your alcohol," he murmured, so that Qrow barely heard him. "Clever..."

At least the headmaster could always appreciate Qrow’s bad puns, he thought, and waited for the next calamity to befall Professor Thistle.

***

"Do they usually take this tea with sugar?" Veronica asked. "The ladies of Atlas, that is."  
Ferra nearly opened her mouth to say yes, but Ozpin beat her to the punch, graciously passing her the sugar bowl that earned him yet another flutter of eyelashes. Ferra, knowing the sugar was undoubtedly rigged in some manner or another, did not allow the silent flirting to annoy her. Instead, she nursed her whiskey and poked restlessly at her first course.

At length, Professor Thistle stirred in a spoonful of sugar, then another. Ferra could scarcely stand the wait as she brought the cup to her lips –

And promptly spit it across the table. 

Ferra avoided the spray, but her neighbor - a quiet young man whose placard indicated he was from Mistral - was not so fortunate. Ferra offered him a gold handkerchief when Ozpin searched his coat pockets, his own handkerchief already claimed by the misfortunes of the evening. 

"Is that - is that tea supposed to taste like salt?!" Thistle sputtered, gasping. 

The students remained wisely silent. Ozpin lifted the sugar bowl, dipping a finger in experimentally. 

"It seems salt has been mistaken for sugar," the headmaster commented. "I'm terribly sorry, Professor Thistle. There's a waiter with champagne. Allow me to flag him down."

"There's the mechanical efficiency of robots for you," Ferra said to Veronica, as though commiserating. "Can't tell one white granular substance from another."

Thistle gave Ferra a suspicious glance, quickly retracted when Ozpin offered her a glass of champagne. Ferra noted he took one for himself as well, evidently rethinking sobriety with the number of calamities in a single course.

Ferra smiled into her whiskey. There were still two courses to go.

"Looks like Atlas has a while to go before they start mass producing these things," Branwen remarked as the robots stomped by yet again.

"If you'll please excuse me, I have to go to the ladies' room." Calico offered a polite bow as she exited. 

Ferra side-eyed her as she walked off; it was obvious the girl was in on the prank war, and that her absence heralded some new hell for Thistle.

Within a minute, another loud robot clunked by with a tray offering a water to replace Veronica's tea cup. Ozpin graciously accepted placing the it before her.

Ferra noticed a yellow glint to the left eye of the robot, as though the red light had faded, but a moment later it was gone, and she quietly decided that if Branwen had managed to mess with Atlas technology, she was better off not knowing how.

Few minutes passed in polite conversation - Qrow waiting quietly for his companion to return before he rose his glass for a toast. By this time, all had finished their first drinks, leaving only water for the impromptu gesture.

"I ah...suck at these kinds of things, but seeing as we have someone from all of the kingdoms here - if you count the robots..." he added, tipping his glass in their direction. "A toast to the festival. Cheers!"

Ozpin looked pleased by Branwen's uncharacteristic moment of proposed unity, Ferra noted, wondering what the student's true motivation was. She raised her glass with the others, feeling somewhat at odds with the words of the toast. 

Above all, she watched Veronica Thistle carefully out of the corner of her eye.

It only took a moment. 

Another spray across the table, more distressed choking. This time Ferra did nothing, offered no words of comfort, choosing instead to nurse her glass of untainted water and watch the scene with tipsy interest. The quiet young man from Mistral left the table entirely; Ferra felt slightly guilty about the collateral damage.

Ozpin, attempting to help, seemed decidedly more resigned at Professor Thistle's evident streak of bad luck, flagging down yet another waiter with champagne as Thistle sputtered something about vinegar. 

"We really should mention this to someone," the headmaster remarked. "Surely the machines are not always this inefficient." And yet, having sacrificed both his handkerchief and his cloth napkin, Ozpin was all talk now, draining his champagne quickly and sitting back with tipsy-pink cheeks and an absently content expression.

"That's Atlas for you, mindless robots," Qrow joked as another arrived at their table. The machine blinked lifelessly, extending the tray of dinner to the guests. "Well, I guess champagne and dinner?" 

Calico giggled softly, "Oh dear, I suppose so. Not that I'm complaining."

The young man then politely - uncharacteristically - served the dinners to everyone at the table: first to Calico, then Ferra, Ozpin, himself, and lastly Thistle. He examined the steamy bowls before them to declare its contents.

"...Hot soup?" he remarked somewhere between a statement and a question.

Calico mimicked her date sniffing at the contents, "Yes, but it is not well seasoned. May I have the pepper?"

Qrow complied passing the pepper shaker. "Ladies first," he commented, waiting for the women to begin their meals.

The headmaster gave Branwen a sideways glance, no doubt surprised by the student's suddenly impeccable manners, but he said nothing save for thanking Branwen for his offer. 

Ferra declined another glass of champagne, opting to remain at her current state of tipsy levelheadedness. She was not certain how violently the dinner would end, having been only offered Branwen's cryptic warning to avoid dessert. It seemed she would have an excuse to do so, she thought, watching Ozpin sway contentedly in his seat after a fourth glass of champagne. She had never seen the headmaster drink so much, but it amused her more than it alarmed her. She had previously thought that perhaps he was immune to the more human characteristics of his faculty and students. 

Perhaps he merely pretended to be.

Ferra chanced a glance at Branwen, waiting for the next accident of the evening to fall upon her unfortunate Vacuo colleague.

Calico passed the pepper back to Qrow. He extended the bottles to the attempted seductress of the evening. "Salt or pepper, Professor Thistle?" Qrow asked politely.

Professor Thistle had learned caution from the evening at last, hesitating to take either. At length, glancing at Calico, she opted for the pepper shaker.

Qrow reached for the sugar and scooped some into his soup. "You said this was salt, right Ozpin? Might as well use it. Ferra?" He offered the sugar container to the professor.

Calico leaned to whisper something in the young man's ear, Qrow smiling in response. He returned the gesture whispering what appeared to be sweet nothings, causing the androgynous girl to giggle.

Ferra raised an eyebrow at the informal addresses Branwen offered his professors, but Ozpin, leaned once again over Veronica's soft, suggestive murmurs, either did not notice or did not care. Nevertheless, Ferra passed the salt bowl over without comment, wondering if this some manner of diversion or merely the calm before the storm. 

Now, faced with two couples, each in their own private conversations, Ferra couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or thankful to be spared the pain of listening in. Ultimately, her desire to protect Ozpin from a purple desert harpy overcame all else, and she cleared her throat to get the tipsy headmaster's attention.

She earned it, along with a glare from Professor Thistle. Ferra decided she would borrow a page from Branwen and his lady friend and change tactics. After all, she knew the saying about flies and honey. She assumed the same applied to violet sand shrews. 

"Veronica, we really should have you over to Beacon soon," Ferra said, defaulting into a practiced politic tone. "The academy is lovely in the summer when the students are out for the holiday. Wouldn't that be nice, sir?"

Ozpin blinked at her, surprised by the suggestion. "Ah, yes, of course," he said, not following her alteration, but understanding she had a reason. "Yes, any professor from Shade Academy is welcome at Beacon, naturally."

 _"Any_ professor?" Thistle asked, leaning in until her shoulder touched his. "You don't extend this offer to just anyone, do you, Oz?"

"Of course not," Ferra interjected before the headmaster could answer. "Professor Ozpin is quite busy. He can only spend his valuable time with distinguished company."

"Ferra..." Ozpin gave her a look that indicated he still was in the dark as to her new behavior, and did not much appreciate it.

But Professor Thistle was already beaming, first at Ferra and then at Ozpin, and the headmaster returned the smile automatically, if just a touch uneasily. 

"Here, sir, have another," Ferra said, slipping yet another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "It's a celebration, right, Veronica?"

Professor Thistle, having decided her luck was at last turning in the opposite direction, nodded, taking the proffered glass from Ferra. She took Ozpin's hand and placed it around the stem in an overtly familiar gesture, guiding it toward his lips. The headmaster again gave Ferra a side glance, this one more pleading than the last.

"Come on, sir," Ferra said, enjoying her boss' discomfort entirely too much, "surely you're not a lightweight. It's only champagne."

"Oh, he needn't worry about that," Veronica cooed. "I would be more than happy to escort him back to his room if he has one...too... _many..."_

With each emphasized word, she tapped a fingertip on Ozpin's arm, trailing them back down in such a manner that the headmaster blushed and nearly choked on his drink.

 _The poor bastard,_ Ferra thought, more than amused. But Ozpin would forgive Ferra eventually, when at the end of the night he no longer had to worry about Veronica's determined come-ons.

***

Qrow watched the scene before him unfold pretending to be immersed in conversation with Calico.

The floosy dared use a pet name. 

_Oz..._

Qrow had never resisted punching someone this hard in his life. When he first heard it, his hand clenched so hard it started to bleed and he had to clench his napkin to prevent further damage. 

Only trained eyes could distinguish the fury being suppressed with false smiles and light banter. Trained eyes like the headmaster and his assistant - both of whom were thankfully distracted by the sand slut. 

The dessert couldn't come fast enough. 

Thankfully wishing hard enough, for once, worked and the trays came out in waves to the tables. Qrow had ensured long ago that his teammates, Ferra, and Calico were either well informed or too well fed to partake in the chocolate decadence. 

It would be up to Ferra to keep Ozpin safe. 

"Oh wow! Those look so good! I shouldn't have had so much dinner," Calico chimed.

"Yea. Bummer. I heard chocolate is an aphrodisiac," Qrow added, smiling at his dinner date. "Makes you more desirable or something..." Qrow leaned in to whisper something into Calico's ear, again causing the woman to cover her mouth in another girlish giggle.

"Oh Qrow..." She took his clenched fist below the table making it appear they were holding hands. 

So she noticed? Qrow smiled at her, thankful for her astounding acting skills. 

Next he turned to Ferra, prompting a cover for her and Ozpin - although the headmaster looked very full of champagne, a side effect of avoiding the advances of the hussy at his side.

She would learn quickly that somethings didn’t belong to her.

***

_Dessert._

Ferra watched the dishes being served, wistfully regretting missing such an appealing chocolate plate. With a heavy sigh she politely declined the metal waiter. 

From across the table, Professor Thistle tilted her head at the gesture. "None for you?"

"I'm afraid I'm allergic to chocolate," Ferra said, with a shake of her head. "But please, don't let that stop you."

Professor Thistle clearly had no intention of letting Ferra's misfortune stop her from anything, taking a plate immediately when offered. 

"Are you allergic?" Ozpin asked, surprised. "I didn't know that."

Ferra groaned internally. Now was not the time for the headmaster to call out her falsehoods. 

"Yes," Ferra said firmly. "I think I've told you half a dozen times over the years."

"Oh," Ozpin said, his thought process more than a little slowed by the drinks in his system. "I feel rather guilty about all those times I sent you chocolates then."

"You sent her chocolates?" Veronica said, her spoon halfway to her mouth, brows furrowing.

"I'm quite a difficult man to work with, my dear," Ozpin said, chuckling. "If I didn't bribe my faculty once in a while, I would have none at all."

Professor Thistle accepted the explanation and the pet name, settling further against the headmaster's chair. "I like a difficult man," she murmured, just loud enough for Ferra to overhear. "Makes it worth the hunt." So saying, she dragged her spoon slowly across her tongue, licking the excess chocolate from her bottom lip.

Ozpin cleared his throat and drained the last of his glass for a lack of anything proper to say.  
Encouraged by the headmaster's evident discomfort and increasing intoxication, Professor Thistle leaned in, her lips nearly at his ear, despite her voice remaining at its current volume. 

"Did you hear what your student said about aphrodisiacs, Oz...?"

One hand slipped from his shoulder to below the table, and Ozpin nearly jumped from his seat, his face flushing scarlet.

"Ah. Well. If you would excuse me for _just_ a moment, Professor Thistle," he said, extracting his arm from her increasingly entwined limbs. "Had a bit too much champagne..."

"Do hurry back," Veronica said, giggling when the headmaster rose unsteadily. 

Ferra watched him leave with a long sigh of relief. She had been ready to fall back on all manner of excuses for Ozpin to leave, if only for a moment, to allow Branwen's full vengeance to take its course.

Not to mention how utterly impossible it was to convince Ozpin to avoid sweets.

For the first time during dinner, Ferra relaxed. She wasn’t sure how effortless Branwen made these pranks look, but she was certain she did not have the fortitude for it.

Qrow's whole demeanor changed the moment Professor Ozpin left the room. 

"I didn't realize they let such loose women teach young and impressionables at Shade,” he said coldly, his crimson eyes locked on the last bite of her dessert snatched in her grasp. “Is it your personal mission to be an open mud pit for every guy in the desert, or have you gone so long without getting any you just want to smother my headmaster in your disease-ridden slime?"

Both Professors Thistle and Agrios turned to the student, mouths open at the crude language. Only Calico Reed watched the scene, eye lighting up as she waited for a response. 

Ferra recovered first, placing a napkin over a slowly growing smirk despite her lack of dessert. As shocked as she was, this was the Qrow Branwen she had asked to deliver her retribution, and she was not disappointed. 

"I beg your pardon!" Professor Thistle exclaimed after a few moments of silent indignation. She looked at Ferra for some sort of discipline, but Ferra needn't even invent an excuse to ignore her; her scroll pinged in her pocket, and she busied herself with that instead.

The androgynous form to Qrow's right straightened after a brief coughing fit following his curt retorts. 

"Oh my," Calico cleared her throat sipping on her water. "You will have to excuse me as well. There must be something in the air tonight." 

"Are you not going to do anything about your…foul-mouthed student?" Veronica pressed, her voice rising an octave, restraining her own words from turning just as harsh as Branwen's.

"Do excuse me," Ferra said, unlocking her scroll. "I have to take this." 

_I don't know what you are planning, but I don't appreciate your methods._

Ferra bit back a snicker. Ozpin, intoxicated as he was, was immensely displeased.

_It's being handled, sir. Thank you for your cooperation. Best wait a few minutes before you come back._

_I absolutely intend to,_ came the short reply. 

With a brief promise, Ferra returned her attention to the growing black cloud between Professor Thistle and Branwen.

"My mouth isn't nearly as disgusting as what is foaming between your legs," Qrow replied evenly.

"Come now," Ferra said to them both, avoiding taking sides, at least for appearances' sake. "None of that language. This event is about unity, after all."

"My apologies, Professor Agrios,” Qrow said. “You are, of course, correct. I support unity, but I don't want our dear headmaster taken advantage of in such a state."

"At least _he_ is a grown man," Thistle retorted before Ferra could think of an interjection. "He can more than handle himself without the sad, half-mature intervention of one of his students. It's really none of your business one way or the other!"

Ferra chewed on her bottom lip; the confrontation was beginning to earn the attention from the entire ballroom, but she was not quite sure Veronica Thistle had made enough of an ass of herself.

Qrow remained oddly calm, completely unaffected by the woman's harsh words or shrill tone. He spoke only loud enough for those at the table to hear, "You're right. Ozpin doesn't need me to do some intervention. I'm just calling what I see: a pathetic past-her-prime hag desperate to get her clutches on someone too polite to say no to her face. You would think a ‘professional’ - and I use that term lightly - of all people would know that; then again I'm willing to bet no one has ever attempted to gain your affections given how much you’re throwing yourself at a complete stranger."

"How _dare - "_ Veronica's voice was beyond shrill now. Ferra glanced at the rest of the table with growing trepidation. If Branwen's end game was merely to hurl insults at Professor Thistle, it was done, and it would be a public relations nightmare to smooth over this and the avalanche of disasters that had occurred at this evening's dinner. 

"Oh dear," Ozpin's soft voice intervened.

At once the chaos paused, all eyes turning to the headmaster. 

"It seems more misfortunes occurred in my absence," he remarked lightly, not yet resuming his seat, "and I'm sorry to see it has turned us all against one another. Quite the opposite of the evening's intentions, is it not? Hardly the behavior I would expect from the finer representatives of the kingdoms. Wouldn't you agree, Professor Thistle?"

Professor Thistle colored lightly and looked away, her expression some mixture of sour embarrassment and anger, clasping her arms around herself.

"I beg your pardon, Professor Ozpin," she said, very quietly. 

"There now," Ozpin said with a smile, taking his seat again. With the motion, the rest of the table slowly resumed to soft chatter. "Isn't that better. Now then, is there any dessert left?"  
Ferra kicked him from under the table without thinking; he flinched but hid it quickly, shooting her a sideways glance.

"No," she mouthed silently.

"Ah, well," Ozpin said, quickly taking the hint, "perhaps it's best I refrain."

"It really is quite good," Professor Thistle said, the sentence cut off by her stomach's immediate loud protest. "I beg your pardon," she said again, looking suddenly pale.

Branwen leaned in toward Calico saying in a loud whisper even Ozpin could hear, "Must be the champagne. I said it gives you gas..."

Ozpin glanced back at Qrow's comment but devoted his attention to Professor Thistle's predicament, inquiring toward her state as Ferra attempted not to listen in. She suspected she already guessed the final prank of the evening, confirmed when other faculty at the table began complaining of similar ailments.

"Oh no," Ferra said, looking around. "Perhaps there was a problem with the dessert...?"

"You didn't have any?" Ozpin asked her.

"Allergic, sir."

"Ah. Yes. Right, of course. Lucky thing for you," he said, turning back to Professor Thistle. Guests were leaving the table en masse now, the Atlas faculty at the head of the table looking increasingly concerned and confused with the health of their guests. "Perhaps we should get you to the medical wing..."

Professor Thistle nodded, attempting to rise from her chair. The furniture went with her, however, her dress snagging on the cushion.

"Oh dear," Ozpin murmured.

"Something wrong, sir?"

The headmaster pressed his lips together. "Could you hand me that steak knife?"

Ferra did as she was asked. "Sir?"

"Professor, I'm afraid your gown appears to be...caught on your chair."

"What do you mean?" Professor Thistle asked, alarmed. 

Ozpin opened his mouth, then closed it, pressing his lips together, shooting a quick glare toward Qrow Branwen, piecing together the cause.

"I mean that you seem to be glued to your chair,” he said at last.

"I _what!"_

"Please try not to draw undue attention," Ozpin said, "and I'll attempt to cut you free without much notice."

Professor Thistle groaned, the sound followed by a quiet stream of cursing. "Do it, then," she said. "Quickly."

Ozpin merely nodded, going to work with the knife. Ferra heard the sound of ripping fabric, and then Ozpin straightened in his chair, examining his work. "Well, it's...well. It’s…Ferra?”

Ferra’s name was akin to a desperate plea, the deputy headmistress rising quickly, slipping around the table, ignoring the silently shaking laughter of Branwen and his date.

She saw the problem instantly, Ozpin handing her the knife and turning away. The glue extended well beyond merely the skirt; Ferra would have to cut off most of the bottom of the dress.

“Veronica,” Ferra began.

“Just do it,” Thistle hissed. “And quickly.”

Ferra suppressed a sigh and obliged, severing the fabric from the chair with a few good strikes. She wasn’t sure if she felt sorry for Professor Thistle, but the dress didn’t deserve its current carnage.

Ferra took Professor Thistle’s arm as she stood shakily, wrapping the excess fabric of her butchered gown around her waist covering her exposed rear.

"Let me take you to the medical wing," she said, slipping to the other side of the table and taking Professor Thistle's arm. 

"Oh, um." Thistle glanced at Ozpin, hesitating. 

"Veronica," Ferra said quietly, turning her away from the headmaster, "do you want to risk an accident in front of him?"

"Oh!" Professor Thistle said again, this time in some amount of horror. "Yes, please take me."

"I'll see you back at your room, sir," Ferra said. "Branwen, make sure Professor Ozpin is safely escorted back to his room. He's had a bit to drink, after all."

"Really, Ferra," Ozpin murmured, but he made no other protest as Ferra escorted the unfortunate Professor Thistle out of the ballroom.

"This is really very nice of you," Professor Thistle said, as the two hurried out of the ballroom. "And after I was so rude to you..."

"It's fine," Ferra said, annoyed that Veronica would taint such a perfect retribution by apologizing. 

"That's very kind of you to say."

"Honey, let me give you a friendly warning," Ferra said sharply, disallowing further apologies and gratitude. "There's a damn good reason I didn't want you getting close to Professor Ozpin."

"You're jealous?"

"What? No. Don't be stupid. It's because you resemble his wife just a little too closely."

"He's _married?"_

_"Was_ married, honey. Was." Ferra was impressed by the speed of her own lies, pressing on as they approached the very busy medical wing. "She was a sweet young thing. Just like you. So very like you. And...well. She didn't live long, I'm afraid. She was always so clumsy, so stricken by bad luck...there was never a formal investigation, but the rumors persisted..."

Veronica stared at Ferra, astonished by this misinformation. 

"He...did he...?"

"Oh, I wouldn't presume to know," Ferra said quickly. "But perhaps it's for the best if you kept a happy distance regardless."

"I...I see," Professor Thistle said, as a nurse approached them. "Thank you. And thank you for escorting me."

"Of course. You poor thing. Do feel better. I hear the Atlas doctors are the best at what they do." Ferra paused, watching the nurse take Professor Thistle's arm. Ferra shook her head as though to herself. "You look so much like her..."

She thought Veronica looked rather paler as she turned away.

Ferra walked back into the empty corridor, sighing heavily. She was nearer to sobriety than not, exhausted by the efforts of personal vengeance. She still had a student running amok with the permission to break every conceivable school rule (and perhaps some laws), and an intoxicated headmaster. 

She sighed again.

Perhaps first she would see if the bar was still open.

***

Qrow fought smiling at his handywork, instead opting to politely dismiss himself from Calico. "So, I hope you still enjoyed the evening."

"Yes, quite. Thank you," she replied, tipping up on her toes to plant a kiss on Qrow's cheek. 

Qrow swallowed, stifling a flush in response from the adrenaline of the evening. Calico exited with a sly wink.

The young man turned his attention to Ozpin, the two now alone at the table. "Eventful night. Want some Atlas fire whiskey?" Qrow offered his cup to the intoxicated professor.

Professor Ozpin looked at Qrow, weary from the cascading events of the evening and still reeling slightly from the amount of champagne in his bloodstream. 

"Is that the stuff that burns?" he asked. Without waiting for a response, he motioned toward the glass impatiently. 

"Well," Ozpin said. He took a long drink, coughing lighting at the fire that caught at the back of his throat. 

Qrow grinned.

"At least your friend seemed to have a good time,” he said tiredly. 

"She did,” Qrow agreed. “Ferra will enjoy the rest of her night too once she doesn't have to deal with Thistle anymore."

Qrow surveyed the surrounding attendees, most of whom had disbursed once the disturbance was removed. Things were quieting down again, the chaos of sick faculty and students subsiding after the ballroom had nearly emptied. Now only a few remained – people who must have opted out of dessert – talking in small groups. 

No doubt trying to figure out what had gone so spectacularly wrong.

"I'd ask you to dance, but you might trip on me," Qrow teased, a sideways grin plastered on his lips. "I'm done with social demands. Want to go back to your room and drink more?"

"Gods, yes," Ozpin muttered into the whiskey.

His scroll buzzed and Qrow watched his fingers stumble to retrieve it, peering at the message that crawled across the screen.

The headmaster raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s for you,” he said. “It’s Ferra. You know,” Ozpin added, pointing at Qrow with the scroll when the student tried to take it, “Ferra seemed suddenly _very_ cooperative with her least favorite student. Curious. Very curious.”

“She’s probably just checking in,” Qrow said, reaching for the scroll again.

“At dinner you two clearly knew something I did not,” Ozpin said, motioning with the device just enough to keep it out of reach. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Oz,” Qrow said, finally catching the headmaster’s wrist and prying the scroll from him.

Ozpin snorted into his whiskey petulantly. “You’re lying, of course,” he said, “but being romantically stalked by a colleague has killed my desire to chase down my suspicions.” 

Qrow chuckled, responding to Agrios’ quick greeting. 

_Branwen here. What's up?_

Qrow palmed the scroll in his pocket as he gestured for the headmaster to remain seated while he obtained another bottle of the Atlas fire whiskey. 

Ozpin was far gone enough that his words had begun to slur a bit, Qrow noticed, but not so far gone that he had forgotten his suspicions about dinner. One more drink would do it, the student figured, and then in the morning all the headmaster would know is a hangover.

Resuming his post at Ozpin's side, the scroll buzzed in his pocket.

_The problem has been handled. Are you with the headmaster?_

_Yes, about to take him back to his room. I'll make sure he gets there without causing a scene._

With that, Qrow pocketed the scroll once again and helped Ozpin up catching the headmaster's elbow as he tilted too far to the side. The student pursed his lips to prevent a grin. He had never seen Ozpin this disheveled before, and he had to admit, it was really amusing.

Qrow offered his elbow to Ozpin knowing the headmaster would rely on his cane for the other side. 

"Ah, thank you," Ozpin said. He allowed Qrow to lead him away from the table while the headmaster attempted to recall his room number. "My room is just around the corner, I think, although...number six? Or perhaps nine. Or eight. It definitely had a - " 

Ozpin drew a wobbly circle in the air with his whiskey to emphasize the point that eluded him in words.

Alone in the hallway, Qrow could no longer hold back his amusement. "I remember which one it was," he said propping the headmaster safely against the wall. "Stay here while I unlock the door.”

With a quiet beep, the door swung open, and Qrow escorted his headmaster inside, placing him gently on the edge of the bed.

Retrieving a glass from the bedside, Qrow poured another shot and handed the glass to the professor. The remainder he kept for himself, taking several long drags in effort to inebriate himself as well, settling beside Ozpin on the edge of the bed.

After all his work that night, Qrow had earned it.

“Curious,” Ozpin said again, obediently drinking – and wincing.

“What is?”

“Watching you take control of the situation - and myself. It’s…curious.”

“Curious how?” Qrow said. “Curious bad?”

“No, no,” Ozpin said, swaying as he shook his head. “It amuses me. In some s-simultaneously deep and shallow manner that makes s-sense only when one is drunk. Well. That is to say – I do not know if I am drunk. Perhaps I am. It has been a long time. Perhaps it is time again.”

“If you’re drunk, you’re the most eloquent drunk I’ve ever seen,” Qrow said, laughing. 

Ozpin chuckled. “Thank you,” he said. “At least, I think that is a compliment.”

“It is. So drink until we’re not eloquent.”

“You never are,” Ozpin said frankly, and laughed, doubling over his whiskey until tears appeared in his eyes. For a long time he laughed quietly, his shoulder shaking with amusement. At last he straightened, catching his breath.

“But I cannot argue your logic,” he said.

So saying, he took another sip, still unable to restrain a flinch at the harshness down his throat. 

"S-So," Ozpin said, clearing his throat to soften the sting of the liquor, "how did you find your first Vytal Festival? I confess this year was...quite the adventure."

"It was a lot quieter than this one," Qrow admitted, taking a seat next to the headmaster. "We both remember how charmingly talkative I was two years ago.”

He paused, remembering.

“I think this one is more fun. I get to actually participate. The team is kicking ass. Made a few..." Qrow hesitated, gesturing in the air with his flask, "people I know. Something like that - from other academies.”

“I’m glad you’re making friends,” Ozpin murmured, leaning heavily against Qrow.

The student couldn’t help smiling at the headmaster’s weight against him, the brush of silver hair against his cheek.

"That teacher's a piece of work though," Qrow commented, taking another drink, the whiskey finally running its warm course through his veins. 

Ozpin snorted. "You're being polite," he murmured into his glass, "which is mildly out of character for you. Although," he added with a sigh, "one would think that at my age, telling overzealous suitors I'm not interested would be less..." He paused, searching for the words that swam away with the liquor in his head.

"Awkward," he finished at last. "Ferra warned me about Professor Thistle, but I was so certain she was overstating the matter. She was right, as always..."

"Ferra is good to you, Ozpin. When she says someone is crazy and you should keep your distance, you should probably listen next time," he paused recalling her opinion of Qrow two years ago. “ _Most_ times. Talkin’ to ‘em makes it easy for the desperates to put you on the spot to so they can fill in the silence with whatever the hell they want to interpret instead of what is."

“It’s difficult,” Ozpin whined quietly. “Everything was much simpler before.”

“Before what?”

“Before this lifetime,” the headmaster said, as though this made any sense at all.

Qrow laughed.

"I guess I can see the appeal though?” he said. “I mean, you are nice and polite and all that...but you attract aggressive people because they sense your reservation that turns everyone else away. Only aggressive people are willing to take a whack at it since you don't relax around most people." 

Qrow's brain swam in the alcohol warming his body, face askew, recalling something difficult. "I can think of...two people? Even then, it is not all the way."

"Two people..." Ozpin repeated, stifling a yawn. "Ferra and yourself, I dare say, and no. Not entirely."

He leaned back on the bed, resting the empty glass on his stomach.

"Perhaps only you entirely, just this once," the headmaster added, concentrating on his words to prevent slurring them, "because I do believe I am drunk."

"'Just this once...'" Qrow quoted with a smirk. "If you trust me drunk, then you'll come around when you're sober. Even when I graduate, you're still going to need me for your secret missions. Your walls will crumble eventually..." 

Qrow trailed off the thought, not quite sure what he was insinuating himself, but it sure sounded smart given how much alcohol he had consumed.

"They already have," the headmaster said automatically. "You're right. Even after graduation, I will need you, but I didn't know if it was my right to ask you."

"I'll stay as long as you need me, Ozpin." 

Funny, Qrow thought, how truthful he knew the statement was without even having to contemplate it. He knew without a doubt, he would remain by Ozpin's side for as long as the man had need for Qrow. Perhaps it was the familiarity and sense of 'home' he had heard people talk about. 

In avian terms, Beacon Academy would be his point of return no matter how long his migration.

"Consider your office my nest," he blurted, the reply across drunken giggling, but this time the automatic response carried the unfortunate consequence of pink cheeks. Qrow cursed and ran a hand over his face in attempt to conceal the event; he was heavily banking on the headmaster being too drunk to notice.

The headmaster laughed in return. "There certainly have been a larger number of birds in my office than I previously anticipated. Fortunately, I have always been rather fond of birds, even when they misbehave, which tends to be often."

The bullshit was apparent. They both knew it was one bird. 

One possessive crow. 

The student's reply was thick with sarcasm: "Shame. So many birds. Must be a full family. They must be entertaining if let them stay."

The last statement was one of truth, but it begged a question. 

"Is that the only reason you let them stay?"

"Ah, they do entertain me," Ozpin said, still facing the ceiling. "I'm very proud of my work ethic, but I confess that sometimes it can be...too much. The birds seem to remind me to stop once in a while. Even if I don't want to - no, _especially_ if I don't want to."

He sighed, the glass trailing from relaxed fingers. "They remind me I'm a little less alone when they're around." Despite the gravity of the statement, the professor snickered to himself. "I never expected the phrase 'tall, dark, and handsome' to refer to a bird."

Qrow pointed a correcting finger at Ozpin stating, "Excuse you - I _am_ tall, dark, and hand-hic-some." 

He glared at the unfortunate timing of the hiccup which ruined his suave. 

"Damnit," he whispered. 

"We make a fine pair, do we not?" the professor said sleepily. "Two fine and very drunk representatives of Beacon Academy..."

Qrow giggled at the headmaster's frankness. "A perfectly lovely couple. Drunken hot messes alone together in the hotel room hiding from the masses." 

Ozpin hummed, eyes closing. Qrow watched him settle, drunken awe at seeing the headmaster relax - _truly_ relax – in front of him. He had seen Ozpin asleep once, after drugging him in Qrow’s second year, but this…

This was voluntary, a compliment Qrow couldn’t quite understand after this much whiskey.

He wanted to say something important, about Ozpin and other people, but instead he yawned. 

"I’ve always preferred your company, Ozpin...” he managed, crawling further up the bed to lie beside the headmaster. “You need me, and you're just what I need..." 

The student's words trailed off to barely above a whisper, sleep beckoning him forth.

"I'm so very glad to hear that," Ozpin murmured, the student's yawn contagious. 

Qrow wanted to climb under the covers properly, but the energy escaped him. He reached over and took Ozpin’s glasses; the headmaster was already asleep, head lolling softly against Qrow’s chest.

 _This is important,_ Qrow thought determinedly against the rise of sleep. This moment, this act of trust – he wanted desperately to remember this in the morning, no matter how bad the hangover. This was worth it.

“We’ll always be together..." he whispered, settling beside Ozpin. Closing his eyes felt deliciously good, and he blindly reached out until his arm found Ozpin’s waist, pulling the other man gently against him.

This, Qrow thought, was everything.


	9. In which Qrow wakes up in the wrong bed, Ozpin has the worst hangover of his life, and the Vytal Festival comes to a close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested song for this chapter: "Mistakes like this" by Prelow

Qrow awoke with a silent groan, the familiar thud of a hangover seeping into all corners of his brain. He lay still for a moment, feeling the ache begin to pulse throughout him.

At least he had made it to bed last night, he thought, one hand trailing along the sheets. And maybe, he thought smugly, feeling the weight of an arm over his chest, he even got a little action.

But first things first: he needed to get rid of this headache.

He needed a _drink._

Blind fingers stretched across his bedside table for his flask, finding instead an alarm buzzer, which sang out loud enough to wake the dead.

_Fuck!_

The startled heap fell to the floor trying to silence the bastard, failing to do so until he tore the cord from the wall.

It was then Qrow remembered he was not alone. 

It was then Qrow realized he was not in his dorm. 

It was then Qrow realized Ozpin was with him. 

Ozpin stirred slightly at the electronic trill of the alarm, murmuring a soft objection, outstretched arm seemingly reaching for the body that it held a moment ago. Qrow froze in place, his head pounding and the room threatening to spin, holding his breath.

In the smallest gesture of good luck, Ozpin was unmoving again, even breathing indicating he remained asleep.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit -_

The panicked form fled, his red cape catching in the door, leaving a tear in his wake.

 _What the fuck happened last night? How could I allow myself to stay?_

Qrow punched the hallway as he rounded the corner for further distance from his unbridled affections.

_Ozpin needed me. But I should have left._

_It was so comfortable. But Taiyang said get a distraction._

_The distractions haven’t been working all summer._

_But if I don’t do something fast, I might do something stupid._

_…stupider._ Qrow groaned, banging his head against the wall.

Did he miss him already?

The dent in the wall left by his head agreed.

Nothing had happened, of course, Qrow told himself. Both he and Ozpin were fully dressed. That was good, right?

Qrow couldn’t agree, torn between avoiding a drunken affair and desperately wanting it.

 _It’s good nothing happened,_ he told himself firmly. _We just got drunk and fell asleep._

And Ozpin was fucking adorable when he slept.

_SHUT UP._

It was a shame Qrow couldn’t stay another few minutes, watching Ozpin sleep, brushing silver hair from closed eyes –

_FUCK._

Qrow needed something. Anything – and he needed it fast.

_Calico._

***

Ozpin slept, but it was the sleep of one unwell. Dreams, pleasant and unpleasant, faded in and out of his mind. Some held enough reality within them that he knew he dreamed, and thus spent the time attempting to escape, trapped in a sleeping body.

Other times, the harsher dreams vanished, the visions chased away by an easy weight on his chest, holding him until they faded into a warm, soft darkness, and his body could once again relax. It almost felt as though someone had cradled him against his own thoughts, a sensation both welcome and unfamiliar.

No one had held him for a very long time.

He didn’t deserve it, of course.

He woke with a sense of sick weight; his breathing heavy, his head pounding so hard that he felt the pulse in every part of him. 

He had no sense of time, which was alarming. For a moment, he could not place where he was, when he was, or who, a thousand broken memories passing through him in panic. He sat up, the room shaky around him, squinting in the dark room. He lifted his hands, noticing that he was fully dressed in a suit and green shirt. He steadied his breathing.

He was Ozpin, headmaster of Beacon Academy. 

Another look around the room – 

He was in Atlas, at the Vytal Festival. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, hands drifting over hands, arms, his face, recalling his own features. Slowly, time began to right itself.

He turned to study the other side of the bed. His companion must have left.

_What companion?_

No, he had been alone. He was always alone now. He didn’t do that anymore.

Love, romance, families.

No more.

_Why does it feel I’m missing someone?_

Residual memories, no doubt dragged forth unwillingly with too much champagne.

He sighed, slipping the jacket from his shoulders, feeling the nausea that followed the migraine. He knew better than to drink like this. This body was a lightweight, alcohol thinning the walls between memories. 

Why _had_ he drunk so much?

That question took longer to answer.

Ozpin lifted himself from the bed, knowing that whatever he drank was about, in part, to come back up. He steadied himself on the wall as he shuffled to the bathroom. 

Whatever had happened last night, he was sure Ferra Agrios would fill in the details. 

Likely with just a little too much pleasure.

His prophecy came true an hour later as he lay curled in bed, praying for his aspirin to work. A knock on the adjoined door made spots appear before his eyes; he murmured something that vaguely sounded like, “Come in.”

Ferra at least had the manners to open the door slowly, soft light leaking in before Ozpin buried his head under a pillow.

“Sir?” she asked quietly.

“Yes?” came the response from beneath the pillow.

A pause, and then: “How are you feeling?”

“Like death,” Ozpin groaned, hazarding a glance up.

Ferra snorted lightly, crossing her arms. “Well, you would know. I’m going to have a tray for you sent up. You need a good meal to help you recover.”

“…thank you.” Food sounded like the second most unwelcome thing in the world, behind only more of this conversation. “What time is it?”

“Just after noon. The Vytal Festival events for today have been postponed after last night’s…issues.”

Ozpin peered at her, almost positive she sounded pleased. “What _did_ happen last night?”

Ferra blinked. “You don’t remember?”

“I barely remember what lifetime I’m in,” Ozpin muttered. “I remember the start of dinner, I think. Qrow was there, which was odd for him. And I had champagne.”

The memories came scattered, hints of light and noise and color.

“I didn’t get any cake,” he said.

Ferra made a noise that suggested she held back a laugh. “No, sir, I’m afraid not. Good thing too, as it gave everyone food poisoning. General Barrack sends her regards, but she is also…under the weather today.”

Ozpin tried to recall this, but his mind remained blank. “Then why do I feel as though my insides have been pulled outside?”

“Because you drank about two bottles of champagne on your own,” Ferra said. “Plus whatever else Branwen plied you with. You’re an annoying coherent and eloquent drunk, by the way, sir.”

_Hardly reassuring._

“But why – “

“You don’t remember Veronica Thistle?”

And at once, Ozpin did remember.

The memories roared through him like ice water, and then heat, which rose until he felt it glowing on his face. The soft comments in his ear, her hand tipping wine down his throat, her knee against his, everything so _suggestive -_

“O-oh,” he said, wishing to hide under his pillows again. “Yes, I…recall Professor Thistle.”

He couldn’t remember how the night had ended, which was a new sort of alarming. He had missed someone beside him this morning and now the thought of who that might have been horrified him.

“I didn’t… _she_ didn’t…”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question. Ferra tried to hide an amused grin.

Not very hard, Ozpin thought irritably. 

“She wasn’t here, sir. After last night, you may be assured that she won’t be bothering you again.”

He let out a long, relieved breath. 

Ferra laughed, low enough that it didn’t make Ozpin’s head throb any worse.

“Not that she isn’t – isn’t…” Ozpin reached for words that his headache chased away, and he sighed again, resigned to frankness.

“She really was horrible to me, wasn’t she?” he said softly. 

“I warned you, sir.”

“I know, Ferra.”

“I told you so.”

“…I know, Ferra.”

“So I got rid of her. You’re welcome.”

Ozpin wanted to thank her, but he was increasingly certain that whatever Ferra did to chase off his unwanted suitor was beyond anything he would consider polite.

Maybe for that reason, Ozpin should thank Ferra even more. Veronica Thistle did not appear to respond to courtesy, except when it was convenient for her purposes.

Everything was so very confusing, and his head hurt to think about it.

“I’m quite sure you were very rude to her,” Ozpin said, “so officially, I disapprove entirely.”

“And unofficially?”

Ozpin only looked away, distrusting his words.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

“Qrow said I’m too much of a gentleman,” Ozpin said, “which seems like a curiously complimentary insult. Oh! Qrow was here.”

The memory was hazy, Qrow’s low laugh as he held Ozpin up, the crooked grin when he had joked about asking Ozpin to dance.

 _A shame,_ Ozpin thought vaguely. He would have liked to dance.

“He escorted you back to your room while I helped with the banquet crisis.”

“I suppose I should thank him,” Ozpin said, a hand trailing over the bedsheets absently. 

How long had Qrow stayed? Perhaps not long at all – just enough to see Ozpin here safely.

Thank goodness it had been Qrow. Anyone else – 

There was no one else. 

“Sir? Get some rest. I’ll wake you for lunch in a while.”

“Oh.” Ozpin met Ferra’s eyes again. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be fine with a bit of sleep.”

“You always are, sir,” Ferra said, shaking her head with the fondness she claimed she didn’t feel toward him. She quietly closed the door and left the room in soft darkness.

Ozpin settled back down against his pillow, eyes drifting to where his glasses had been placed neatly on the nightstand by someone else’s hands. For a long time he studied the glasses, and felt the absence of something important he knew he had forgotten.

***

In the days that followed the catastrophic Vytal Festival banquet, Raven Branwen noticed a change in her twin’s behavior.

The rest of Team STRQ, warned to either avoid the banquet or to “avoid eating anything” if they attended, made a united decision to skip the formal dinner altogether, ordering room service and spending the evening in the empty hot springs. Summer and Taiyang held animated debates about Qrow’s warning and what it could mean, both eventually deciding that Qrow’s good behavior at Beacon had finally caused some sort of breakdown, and that he would not rest until he had pranked the entire Vytal Festival.

 _Almost correct,_ Raven mused, listening to them silently. Qrow’s behavior in their room before he left was telling enough: the knit eyebrows, the sharp tone in his voice, the agitated movements – she knew the look well enough.

This was personal.

This was territorial.

Raven didn’t know who could have pissed Qrow off so quickly and so intimately, but she knew that even if it meant sabotaging an entire international dinner to make his point to a single person, Qrow would do it.

The stories that came forward after the dinner proved her right. Confused robotic waitstaff, widespread food poisoning – it was impossible to know exactly who had been the original target.

Qrow didn’t return that night; Raven listened for any indication that he had been caught, but by all accounts, the disaster was blamed on Atlas’ well-meaning but flawed technology.

Even Raven had to admit she was impressed that Qrow managed this level of chaos without suspicion. 

When he came by the next morning, she expected victorious smirks, preening and secretive winks. Instead, he slinked in like a moody cat, head down and hands in his pockets, his usually over-styled hair mussed and disheveled. 

“Hey!” Tai grinned, noticing his friend’s silent reappearance. “Hearing all _kinds_ of gossip about the dinner. All the events today have been canceled. What the hell did you do?”

“What I had to,” Qrow said. “I just came by for – here it is.” He found his leather-wrapped flask under his pillow, shaking it to listen for the sound of liquid within. “I’ll see you guys.”

And then he was gone, leaving Team STRQ behind to wonder and worry about this new moody attitude.

For days after, Raven only caught sight of Qrow as he dashed about the academy, his short-haired friend in tow, the two of them racing away from crowds with held hands, giggling as though they knew of some impending chaos about to occur behind them.

The first day they snuck into all of the restrooms and clear wrapped all of the toilets. No one dared comment at the ceremonies about the spots littering the fronts of the male officer uniforms.

The second day saw a recall of Atlas military uniforms, an emergency laundering service provided for all who suddenly found their clothing unbearable itchy. A new material, Atlas officials claimed, although they did so with a concerned tone.

“Fleas,” Qrow suggested to Team STRQ, laughing darkly.

Raven did not voice aloud her suspicions about itching powder.

On the third day, half of the Mistral dorms reported hair loss as a result of Atlas-provided shampoo.

Qrow offered no explanation for the incident, but his lady friend giggled, unconcerned with hiding her involvement.

On the fourth day, she found Qrow at the desk in their room, stooped over and writing furiously.

“A letter for home?” Raven asked dryly.

Qrow glanced up only for a moment before dropping his head over his task again.

“Nope,” he said.

“Care to tell me what this is all about?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“It’s getting out of control.”

“I haven’t been caught,” Qrow said, capping his pen. “I haven’t even been accused of anything.”

“You’re playing with fire.”

“You mean the pranks, or Calico?”

“Both,” Raven said. “I don’t trust her.”

“Why not?” Qrow said. “She’s just like me.”

“Precisely.”

“You don’t like her because she didn’t grow up under your thumb,” Qrow said, rising and picking up a pile of sticky notes.

A knock at the door sounded, Calico appearing.

"Ready?" he grinned, palming his stack of paper. 

"Of course," she said. She offered Raven a sideways glance, walking past her to Qrow. Qrow bent for a kiss, each half embracing each other with one arm while holding their papers away from the other. 

"What's mine say?" he asked after disengaging.

"Birdbrain," Calico teased. "And mine?"

"Copy-cat."

Both snickered.

“Really?” Raven drawled. “You’re putting notes on people’s backs?”

“It’s harmless enough,” Qrow said.

“I challenged him to tag his headmaster,” Calico said, grinning. 

Raven snorted. “If anyone could, it would be Qrow.”

Calico’s eyes narrowed at the remark.

 _Ah,_ Raven thought. _So she sees it too._

“See?” Qrow said proudly. “Even Raven knows I’m that good.”

Calico laughed, the doubt easing from her face. “All right, let’s see you prove it.”

They sauntered out, arm in arm.

Raven remained behind to give them their space. If Calico wanted to waste her time on someone like Qrow, on someone who always wanted what he couldn’t have, then it was really none of her business.

Just as long as Raven didn’t have to pick up the pieces.

***

A few days after the worst hangover of this lifetime, Professor Ozpin found himself enjoying his unofficial vacation again, scrolling about Atlas Academy with interest. He hadn't been in Atlas in years, after all, newly impressed by the ever-advancing technological changes in the kingdom. The halls of the academy were scarcely warmer than the brisk air of the wintry landscape; Ferra had cursed every individual snowflake over breakfast, but Ozpin found the cold invigorating, his breath forming whimsical shapes as he watched the sun rise orange over white mountains.

Qrow Branwen also seemed to enjoy the change of scenery, stopping Ozpin in a corridor to chat, his voice and expressions animated. Ozpin thanked him for his involvement in the great banquet crisis – as Ferra had called it – but Qrow merely dismissed the gratitude with some polite comment about being happy to help.

He left his headmaster with a friendly pat on the back, suggesting that Ozpin have another cup of hot coffee to ward off the chill, which Ozpin admitted had more than its share of appeal. 

He took his coffee back to his room, where the blankets on his bed had been mysteriously stripped. Restraining a smile, he knocked on the adjoined door where Ferra was staying.

"Come in," came the muffled reply.

Ozpin found Ferra still in bed, a mountain of bed covers piled over her, her face the only skin visible, gold hair poking out from all angles. 

"Why, Ferra," he said, sipping his coffee, "breaking into my room? Stealing my sheets? Inviting me into your room whilst still in bed? How the students will talk."

"Hush, old man," the blankets snapped. "Like I wasn’t taking care of your hungover ass all day last week while you festered in bed. Besides, there's practically a blizzard outside and the thermostat won't go higher than this."

"It's perfectly lovely outside," Ozpin said, “but I will concede it's rather chilly even inside. Why have you not lit the fire?"

"My hands are frozen. They would snap before the match."

Ozpin cleared his throat, reaching over to a switch on the wall. A click, and then flames shot up beneath the mantle, crackling with energy.

Ferra stared, her brow furrowing. "What in the hell - "

"Ferra, this is the most technologically advanced kingdom in the world," the headmaster remarked, amused by her confusion. "The fireplaces are Dust-activated. Did you really expect the military to ask their guests to use such a primitive means like matches?"

Ferra swore, the pile of blankets shuffling across the mattress and toward the fireplace. “You’re disgustingly cheerful today, sir. I take it you’re feeling better?”

“Perfectly so.”

The blankets snorted dubiously. “Well, you’re not getting your sheets back now that you’re not an invalid.”

"Let me contact the guest services and see if I can't have my bed covers replaced," Ozpin said, chuckling. He turned to take a seat in the armchair before the fire, reaching for his scroll in his coat pocket.

"What is that?"

Ozpin glanced up to see Ferra motioning vaguely toward him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"On your back, sir. It looks like a scrap of paper." The blanket pile shifted toward him, an arm shooting out from the depths to reach behind him, withdrawing with a square of paper.

"Someone put a sticky note on your back," came Ferra's amused voice from within her movable fortress. 

"Oh?" Ozpin said, with another chuckle. "Oh dear. It doesn't invite strangers to kick me, does it?"

"If only, sir. It says, 'silver fox.'" Another snort shook the blankets. "Oh, lord."

Ozpin raised an eyebrow. "Should that mean something to me?"

"Tch," the blankets said. "With respect, sir, you really aren't very current on your slang."

"Afraid not, Ferra. Care to explain to an out-of-touch old man?"

"It means an attractive older man. Usually with gray hair."

"Ah. I see..."

"Sir, are you blushing?"

The headmaster shot the blankets a sharp glance, unable to see Ferra's judging gold eyes. 

"It's merely a prank," Ozpin said, evading the question. "I'm sure every man over thirty-five will be sporting a similar title."

"If you say so, sir. It would be difficult to find a secret admirer if they can slap a note on your back without you even noticing."

"Yes, I - " Ozpin paused, Ferra's phrasing bringing a visual to mind. 

"What is it, sir?"

"Qrow," he said, the name a sigh.

"He put the note on you?"

"He had the opportunity."

The blankets snickered. "I'll be sure to tell him I question his taste in men, sir."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ozpin said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It's merely to tease."

"Mmhmm," the blankets said, settling on the floor in front of the fire. "If you say so, sir."

Ozpin glanced at the note in his hand, a smile tugging at his lips despite the nature of the prank. There were worse things to be, he mused silently, than a silver fox.

***

Taiyang Xiao Long stood outside of the faculty guest accommodations, rolling nervously on his heels, the number eight before his eyes, large and gold and somehow imposing.

He craned his neck to look behind him one more time, hearing a noise that wasn’t there, hoping one of his teammates would appear.

After all, they were the ones who volunteered him for this.

Raven had teased him, asking if he really was _that_ scared of Professor Ozpin.

And Tai was annoyed that he really, _really_ was.

He didn’t know exactly why; Professor Ozpin had never been rude to him, or said anything to him to make him truly afraid, and yet every time the headmaster appeared, Tai felt the rise of anxiety.

One of these days, Tai would do something truly stupid in front of Professor Ozpin, and the headmaster would realize that he had made a huge mistake in letting Taiyang into Beacon, especially on Team STRQ.

Summer, with the silver-eyed powers of ancient warriors.

Qrow and Raven, raised by thieves and wolves in the wild, born to survive anything.

And Tai.

Tai, with the stupid jokes and the fashion sense better suited to forty-year-old men. Tai, the comic relief, the back-up, the screw-up, with average grades and average skill, always running to catch up to his talented teammates. 

Ozpin had made a mistake. Raven made a mistake.

They all made a mistake to think he was on their level.

And eventually, Taiyang would say something and they would all realize it.

He clenched his fists and knocked on the door, using his anger as a substitute for courage.

Ozpin acted as a conduit. Everything felt worse when the headmaster looked at him like he belonged at Beacon.

“Hello, Mr. Xiao Long.”

Tai jumped, eyes shooting up to the open door. His headmaster offered him a politely expectant look.

“May I help you with something?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“Uh.” Taiyang swallowed, his practiced questions evaporating. “Yeah, I…I was looking for Qrow.”

The headmaster’s eyebrows raised. 

Tai felt his palms start to sweat. “We, ah…wanted to get some practice in before our match today.”

“Hmm.” Professor Ozpin opened the door more widely. “Come in for a moment, and let me think when I last saw him.”

_Shit._

“Well, I didn’t want to, uh, impose or anything – “

“Not at all,” Professor Ozpin said, with all his usual courtesy that made Tai swear more violently in his head.

He followed the headmaster with shuffling steps, nervously glancing around the room. It was big and impressive – like their room but a lot bigger. Shinier. The bed was neatly made and the sight of it surprised Tai.

A moment later and he realized that it was because the thought of Professor Ozpin needing sleep seemed somehow wrong.

“Would you like some coffee?” Professor Ozpin said, motioning toward a very big, very shiny machine.

“Oh. No thanks,” Tai said.

“Do you not like coffee? I believe I have tea somewhere around here as well.”

“No, I like it just fine,” Taiyang said. “But not how you do.”

Professor Ozpin offered a stare at this statement.

“I mean,” Tai said quickly, realizing that he probably somehow just insulted the headmaster, “that I put way too much cream and sugar in it and you probably would…you know. Disapprove.”

Professor Ozpin chuckled quietly. “A common enough feature of youth,” he said. “I promise I will look away while you prepare it.” He poured a mug of black coffee and offered it to the student, keeping his word and turning away, glancing at his computer instead.

“Thanks.” Tai quickly added several packets of sugar. “So, about Qrow?”

“Oh, yes. I saw him this morning, with his girlfriend.”

Tai snorted so violently that coffee sprayed over his hand. “Girlfriend?” he repeated, wiping the coffee onto his pants.

“Is that not right?” Professor Ozpin said, taking a seat and facing Tai. 

“Qrow’s not really…the settling down type.”

“Hmm. Perhaps I was mistaken. The two do seem very compatible.”

“She’d have to be, to get Qrow to – “ Tai broke off the sentence, realizing what he was telling, and to whom. “I mean…do you really think they are?”

Professor Ozpin smiled, but not one he shared with Tai; this one was secret, like something he shouldn’t tell. “Let’s just say I’ve won my fair share of wagers against other faculty in this field.”

“You bet on students’ love lives?!” Taiyang stared, too shocked to hold the question back.

“When one lacks a social life, the social lives of others become vicarious hobbies,” Professor Ozpin said, amused. “We’ll keep that our little secret, won’t we?”

“Sure,” Tai said, grinning. 

_Maybe Qrow was right. Maybe the old man wasn’t so bad after all._

“By the way, Professor Peach still owes me ten lien for you and Miss Branwen becoming official,” Professor Ozpin said. “She doesn’t have the proper faith in you.”

Professor Ozpin’s tone remained light, but Tai felt the words like a gut-punch. 

“Oh,” he said. 

“I’ve said something uncouth, it seems,” Professor Ozpin said, noticing the change in his face. “My apologies for speaking too candidly.”

“No, it’s not that,” Tai said, cupping the coffee in both hands. “It’s just…you make me nervous, sir.”

“I am well aware.”

_Well, that’s fantastic._

“Oh.”

Professor Ozpin let out a short breath, adjusting his glasses. “I’ve done my best to alleviate your anxiety in my own way, but I’m afraid I have been unsuccessful. Perhaps now a direct request is best: what else can I do to make you feel more comfortable?”

“It’s not you,” Tai blurted. He swallowed, bouncing one leg nervously. “It’s just…me.”

Professor Ozpin waited in patient silence.

“I’m…me, you know?”

Professor Ozpin blinked, and then he leaned back in his chair. 

“I think I understand,” he said.

Tai tensed. _Is that a good thing?_

“You feel inadequate,” Professor Ozpin said. “Do you mean regarding your current status at Beacon, at the Vytal Festival, or within your own team?”

“All of it!” Taiyang exclaimed. “Come on, Professor. Summer has superpowers and Qrow and Raven never even _went_ to combat school. I just…I just punch things and make stupid jokes. How am I supposed to compete with them?”

Professor Ozpin remained quiet for a moment, weighing his student’s words.

“You’re not meant to,” he said at last.

Tai deflated.

“Summer, Qrow, and Raven are your teammates,” Ozpin said. “You were never meant to compete with them. You _complement_ them, Taiyang, and your presence on their team is invaluable.”

_Invaluable?_

Tai stared.

_Did he use my first name?_

“Miss Rose’s idealism needs the weight of reality. The Branwens provide that. The Branwens require a sense of balance – a lightness to their dark upbringing, a sense of humor to ease their tension. Your team is incessantly on the edge of black and white, Taiyang. You are the rock in the center. You hold them in place. What you see as ‘stupid jokes’ and ‘punching things,’ I see as an irreplaceable glue holding Team STRQ together.”

Tai blinked, disbelieving the words. 

“Not every Hunstman is a leader,” Professor Ozpin said. “You may think your work is overlooked and average, but I see a young man who consistently steps up in situations that worry him, that cause him fear, and he thrives in spite of that.”

Taiyang swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry.

“Oh,” he said weakly. “Do…do you really mean all that?”

“I’m not in the habit of saying things that are untrue,” Professor Ozpin said.

“I didn’t mean – “ Tai broke off the protest. “I mean, thanks.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Xiao Long. Now, back to the business that brought you here. I believe the last time I saw Mr. Branwen was this morning, when he had the audacity to place a note on my back.”

Tai laughed. “Sounds about right.”

“He was on the upper decks of the auditorium. You may be able to coax him out from hiding with popcorn.”

“Sure. I’ll try that. Thanks, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin rose with Tai. “Any time at all, Mr. Xiao Long. Let me see you out.”

Tai shuffled back to the door, the weight on his shoulders considerably lighter. He paused, his hand on the doorknob. 

“Can I ask one more thing?” he said, turning.

“Of course.”

“What you said – it’s really something to think about. But…for the physical side of things…”

“You have doubts about your combat ability?”

Tai shifted on his feet.

“You have remarkable instincts, Mr. Xiao Long,” Professor Ozpin said. “Your skill at close range is quite impressive. You understand people, and that is not to be overlooked. You see things in Miss Branwen she tries to hide. You feel the actions of your opponent often before they make them. I do not consider that a small talent.”

Tai nodded, his mood lightening still. “Thanks, Professor.”

It still didn’t address his usefulness to his team on the field, but hey, it was a start.

Professor Ozpin hummed thoughtfully. “Do you remember the sparring match your team had against me?”

“Kinda hard to forget, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin smiled. “You made a remark before you left. Do you remember? You said you were sure you felt contact.”

“Yeah, well, I – “ Tai paused, the words catching up to him. He looked up at Professor Ozpin, eyes wide. “Do you mean – “

“Another little secret,” Professor Ozpin said, putting a finger to his lips. “Just between us. Now, off you go, Mr. Xiao Long. You have a match to prepare for.”

Taiyang laughed, opening the door. “No problem,” he said, all grins. “I won’t let you down, Professor.”

“You never do, Mr. Xiao Long.”

***

As the Vytal Festival came to close, Summer Rose received the best news – even better than Team STRQ making it to the final rounds of the festival.

She barreled around the last corner to her team's temporary Vytal Festival dormitory in Atlas, haphazardly colliding with a student from Mistral (by the judge of the tunic), sending papers careening to the floor. 

_Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god._

"Sorry!" she sang over her shoulder, but the petals in here wake was all that was left before her voice carried to the traveler.

She burst into the room with the grace of a walrus landing on a dock. 

"QROW HAS A GIRLFRIEND!"

Raven, whom had long grown accustomed to sudden outbursts, remained unphased by the sudden commotion, instead rolling her eyes oozing doubt in the romantic skills of her twin brother. 

Taiyang's jaw hit the floor. "No!" he grinned.

"Yes!" Summer squealed.

"NO!" 

_"YES!"_

"HOLY SHIT!" He bounced up and down on the bed in excitement, coddling a pillow against his chest - his less than subtle side gaze at Raven driving her to look up from packing. “How’d you find out?”

“I saw them after our last match,” Summer said. “I went over to say hi to her, but then I overheard her ask him out, so I hid.”

“You eavesdropped,” Raven said.

"And she's _pretty!_ " Summer bounced from foot to foot, playing hopscotch in place.

"Now I know you're making it up," Raven finally chimed in.

"We already met her," Summer beamed, hands cradling her cheeks dreamily. “The girl from the hot springs. Remember?”

Raven made a face. “Calico.”

“That’s her! Isn’t it exciting?” Summer asked.

"Man, I thought he was going to be a player for life the way he was going over summer. There was nothing he wouldn't hit on," Taiyang chimed in.

Raven made a _hmph_ sound, turning back to her duffel bag. “Are you packed already? Our flight leaves in an hour.”

Summer puffed her cheeks at Raven. “You have no sense of romance!” she accused.

Raven shrugged, as if this didn’t bother her.

Summer stuck her tongue out, unwilling to let Raven bring her down. 

“Qrow settling down, eh?” Tai said. “I guess stranger things have happened.”

“He’s hardly settling down if he’s seeing Calico,” Raven objected. “They practically destroyed the school because they were bored. Do you really want that at Beacon?”

Tai’s face fell. “Oh. Now that you mention it…”

“Oh, don’t be a stick in the mud,” Summer exclaimed. “Can’t you be happy for just a minute that your brother found someone too?”

“Guess that means he’s finally over his crush on me,” Taiyang said.

“Gross,” Raven said, throwing a pillow at him. “Hurry up and pack. I want to go home.”

“Home?” Tai repeated, removing the pillow from his face. “Did you just call Beacon home?”

Raven froze, her hands holding a school uniform.

“You did!”

“Shut up!” 

Another pillow was thrown, Raven denying her own words and the resulting blush, while Summer laughed. Summer was sorry to leave the Vytal Festival, but the thought of returning to Beacon with her team – her family – sounded better than winning matches against rival schools. 

Team STRQ (minus Qrow, who never could be depended on to follow a schedule) finally hauled their luggage to the airships, Summer counting off the numbers until they found their ship. They climbed on board, finding Professor Ozpin in the doorway of the cockpit, speaking to the pilots. Their spirits were high – even Raven’s, though she wouldn’t admit it, but the tiny smiles she gave Tai, the slow relaxation of her shoulders told Summer enough.

They were going home again.

“Ah, Team STRQ,” Professor Ozpin said, returning to the passenger seats. “Glad you made it on time. Well. Most of you.”

“Qrow is saying goodbye to his _girlfriend,”_ Summer said.

“Is that so?” Professor Ozpin said, eyes dancing. “How…unexpected.”

“Unexpected?” Taiyang repeated. “Didn’t you say you had a bet – “

“Oh, there he is now,” Professor Ozpin interrupted, looking down the ramp.

Summer whirled around, eager to catch a last glimpse of the new couple. Qrow and Calico were at the base of the ramp, facing each other, hands together, their voices too quiet to be heard over the warming engines of the airship. Summer felt her heart glow when Qrow leaned in to offer Calico a kiss.

“Perhaps we should give them their privacy,” Professor Ozpin said gently.

Summer turned away in mild disappointment – didn’t Ozpin know how much this meant to her? To see Qrow finally trusting other people?

She caught Raven staring, but not at Qrow and Calico. Her gaze remained heavily on Professor Ozpin.

These days, Raven seemed to stare a lot at Professor Ozpin, Summer thought. 

Qrow appeared, dropping his duffel bag with a huff, grinning at his team.

“Miss me?” he asked.

“You very nearly missed take-off,” Professor Ozpin remarked. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Branwen.”

“Thanks, Oz – Professor.”

And there was that look again, Raven’s eyes darting from Professor Ozpin to Qrow, narrowing as though she saw something Summer did not.

“With a girl like that, I bet Qrow could fly home himself,” Tai teased. “Cloud nine and all that, right, Qrow?”

Qrow tossed his head back casually, despite the smile on his face. “She’s something, all right,” he said. “What d’you think, Professor?”

“She is very lovely,” Ozpin answered, moving gracefully as the airship lurched, the engines coming to life. “From what I recall of the banquet, she had remarkably refined manners.”

Taiyang snorted.

“’From what you recall?’” Raven repeated.

“It was an eventful evening,” Ozpin said.

“Oz got wasted,” Qrow announced.

Professor Ozpin cleared his throat, pulling his scroll from his pocket. “We’re about to take off. I recommend taking your seats.”

“You got drunk?” Taiyang asked the professor, wide-eyed.

“It’s hardly a story worth telling,” Professor Ozpin said. “Seats, if you please.”

“I didn’t even know you drank,” Summer said, giggling at the thought of the headmaster intoxicated. “Qrow, what was he like?”

The engines cut out, the students rocking as the airship halted.

All eyes turned to Qrow.

“What?” he asked loudly, as though daring them to speak.

“I’m sure it’s just a slight hiccup,” Professor Ozpin said, excusing himself to the cockpit; less because of the engine failure, Summer thought, and more to avoid listening to gossip concerning him.

Tai hit Qrow’s arm lightly. “You were saying?”

“I dunno. Drunk Ozpin is kinda the same,” Qrow said, as the students took their seats around him, listening intently. “Practically speaks poetry.”

Summer laughed. “Somehow that’s what I would expect.”

Qrow’s grin remained in place, but softened as he thought back. “You know how he gives those speeches that only sort of make sense? You can tell they’re calculated. Like he chooses his words really carefully.”

“Those speeches make me nervous,” Tai muttered.

“He’s like that when he’s drunk. Only the words aren’t chosen carefully. It’s like…for once, he actually spoke his mind without thinking.”

Raven remained silent, still watching Qrow with narrowed eyes.

Summer leaned back in her chair. “Somehow that’s…kind of sad.”

“What do you mean?” Tai asked.

“Just that it seems like he doesn’t have friends,” Summer said. “Like he’s lonely, so he keeps it all to himself.”

“Yeah, but he’s a teacher,” Tai said.

“What does _that_ mean?” Summer said. “Teachers are people too.”

“Definitely not,” Tai said. “Teachers aren’t people, and Professor Ozpin is the least person-like of all of them.”

Summer playfully hit his shoulder. “That’s so rude!”

“But it’s not wrong,” Tai countered, wriggling in his seat to avoid being hit again. 

“Well…”

“He’s human enough,” Qrow said. “You just have to get enough detention to get to know him.”

Raven stared, studying him in a way that made Summer pause; what did Raven see that Summer missed?

“Speaking of getting to know people,” Tai said, nudging Qrow with his elbow, “tell us about how you convinced Calico to date you.”

Summer clapped her hands, the thoughts of Raven’s suspicions evaporating. “Yes, please do!”

“Hey, she asked _me_ out,” Qrow protested indignantly.

“Oh, sure,” Tai said, and then the airship lurched again and he spilled from his seat amongst easy laughter. Summer helped him up and back into his seat while Qrow began the story of how he wooed Calico.

None of them noticed Raven turn away, eyes on the closed cockpit door, ruminating on suspicions she wouldn’t share with her team.


	10. In which an outsider visits Beacon, and revelations about the Branwen twins are had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested song: "Lying" by Foreign Air

Professor Ozpin set the coffee tray on his ticking desk, arranging the polished set for a moment before checking the time. The chess set was already waiting, the white pieces toward the headmaster's chair. Another glance at his watch. He stole a chocolate chip cookie from the coffee tray and took his seat, idly checking his messages on his scroll until the ping of the elevator interrupted.

Qrow was exactly on time again, a streak of good behavior that Ozpin could not decide was something to regard with pride or suspicion; the headmaster opted to give Qrow the benefit of the doubt and trust him until he had reason otherwise. Ozpin pressed the key for elevator access, pouring himself a cup of black coffee while he watched the floor numbers light up.

Qrow was not alone.

On his arm was a young woman of androgynous appearance: tall and slim, short-cropped dark hair, her scarlet outfit reminiscent of something rather piratical. 

Calico Read. 

Ozpin remembered her from the Vytal Festival, talented huntress-in-training and Qrow's surprise date. The headmaster did not expect her then and did not expect her now, and yet he was pleased by her presence, a clear indication that Qrow was not the same unhappy, antisocial boy from two years ago. 

The professor rose, offering both students a smile. "Miss Read, a pleasure to see you again. Qrow didn't mention bringing a guest, but I am delighted he did."

***

Calico regarded the headmaster's outstretched hand and accepted firmly, already making notes of everything: the calm, quiet ticking of the ceiling, where enormous gears moved overhead; the polished, almost industrial decor of the office that still somehow felt warm and personal; the bright coffee set with fresh cookies, meant to impress; the chess set that looked both well-worn but well-cared for.

The latter two surprised her: Qrow didn’t particularly possess a sweet tooth, nor an attention span dedicated enough to withstand such a languid strategic game.

Professor Ozpin was not expecting her, and yet the office had all the appearance of a host waiting for an honored guest - one Ozpin was in the habit of challenging to chess. 

Calico knew from the disastrous dinner in Atlas that Qrow had an unusual relationship with his headmaster - Calico avoided her own like death itself - and yet this was peculiar to an even greater degree. 

Ozpin’s reputation was one of an eccentric but very successful academic, a protégé of classical Huntsman training, the youngest headmaster in Vale history. But there were things about him she couldn’t find even with careful digging: details about his family, his personal life, and even his exact age seemed stricken from records and articles. 

"Thank you, sir," she said, defaulting on courtesy. She wasn’t sure why in the world Qrow wanted to visit his headmaster, given their usual date activities, but she deferred to his judgment. 

Ozpin was a mystery. A carefully constructed mystery.

To everyone but Qrow, it seemed. And that was enough to interest Calico.

What secrets did Qrow know? Perhaps Ozpin saw him as a friend he wanted to keep close… perhaps he saw him as a near enemy he needed to keep closer.

Time would tell.

Possibly, a happy thought striking her as she released the professor's hand, Qrow meant to prank Ozpin before she left – the reaction a true test of Ozpin’s opinion. 

_That_ would be a memorable date.

"Please, sit," Ozpin said, resuming his seat. "Have some refreshments, especially the cookies, as I have a terrible habit of eating them all myself." Another smile - Calico found it both charming and suspicious, as though it was meant to disarm. 

"So, Qrow, may I ask the occasion that brings such a lovely guest to my office?"

"She's going to be my date for the dance. Figured you should meet her since you were always saying I should get one."

The headmaster chuckled. "Delighted," he said again. "I'm very glad that Miss Read could come all the way from Mistral to attend the dance. I hope that Beacon lives up to any expectations she may have." 

_A headmaster involving himself in a student’s personal life? Curious._

"It's a beautiful academy, sir," Calico offered. 

Best to play up the niceties now, in case she needed the brownie points later. 

"Thank you, Miss Read. It's certainly a labor of love." 

Calico tried to get a read on the headmaster. He was perfectly polite and sociable, his manners impeccable. 

Yet he was completely guarded, the courtesy a mask of whoever he really was, whatever he was hiding. 

She glanced at Qrow, but none of this surprised her. Qrow seemed attracted to masks and secrets, and befriending a headmaster certainly could come in handy with the amount of trouble he got into.

She tried to convince herself that’s all this was, and yet unsubstantiated suspicions nagged at her.

An electronic trill saved her from another meaningless polite platitude, the headmaster reaching in his coat for his scroll.

"Do excuse me," he said, glancing at the name on the screen. "Yes, Ferra? Yes, I remember. Yes, it's in my calendar. No, you don't have to call and remind me again. Thank you."

He replaced the scroll in his pocket with a wry smile. "My assistant," he told Calico by way of explanation. "She has no faith in my ability to recall faculty meetings. She worries too much. _Curae canitiem inducunt,"_ he added, touching a lock of his silver hair with a chuckle.

Qrow too joined his headmaster chuckling in unison. _"Ab actu ad posse valet illation,"_ Qrow offered.

Calico shifted her gaze between the two men. There was definitely something unusual about their unspoken relationship – hell, even their spoken relationship based on the fact they spoke some unrecognizable tongue. 

Latin perhaps? But no one spoke it anymore, so it couldn't be something they picked up naturally...

The way their eyes met, such focus, almost as if the two were on a separate plane of existence - there, but not actually with the rest of the world. 

The nagging thoughts pulled harder at her.

Qrow squeezed her hand, bringing her thoughts back to the present. "Ozpin always runs off before faculty meetings, so it's a cold day in hell when he attends," he explained.

_Ozpin._

The casual name-dropping happened in Atlas too, and it remained just as strange now as it had been there.

"Of course," she giggled, the sound a mask for her thought. "They must be dreadfully boring."

_Familiarity with the headmaster's tendencies…_

However, given Qrow’s track record she wagered her significant other had spent half of his schooling in detention or some other form of punishment in this room.

 _It was inevitable,_ she told herself, _and would have been stupid of Qrow to not take advantage of unrestricted access to valuable information._

Then again, Qrow was charming. Remarkably so. She wouldn’t put subtle manipulation to avoid expulsion past him.

She approved, but curiosity begged the question if the masked headmaster was aware.

"My meetings are boring only because my deputy headmistress is so capable," the headmaster said, "and my attentions are better served elsewhere, given that my time is so limited."

The words were in direct contrast to the scene in his office, Calico noted, the itch for information growing. Everything was contradictory. If his time was so valuable, why waste it playing chess with a student?

They could at least _pretend_ like they’re weren’t attracted to each other. This display felt almost like shamelessness.

_…is it possible they didn’t know? Was this game more for the sake of themselves than anyone other?_

_…were they that oblivious?_

"I do hope you enjoy dancing, Miss Read," the professor said. "Qrow has been unfairly subjected to my lessons for years now. He's become quite skilled, and - dare I say - may not entirely hate it."

Qrow scoffed. "You make it sound like it was willingly." He turned, regarding Calico and dropping his voice, "He demanded I learn how to become 'civilized' or something. Yeah right. But it’s true. I am good," he added with a wink draping his arm around Calico’s waist to nudge her shoulder. 

A headmaster, with little spare time, providing a delinquent student private lessons? 

Confirmation, she supposed. The whole act was a polite excuse - a terrible one she might add. She eyed Qrow from her peripheral, her date all smiles.  
Qrow dropped his hand from Calico’s waist upon meeting Ozpin’s playful gaze.

It was excruciatingly obvious the two men enjoyed each other's company. 

_But to what end?_

"I have been accused of being very light footed, so I don't think keeping up will be a problem," she jested.

Qrow regarded her affectionately, both knowing the reference extended well beyond dancing.

There, Calico knew she’d had the headmaster beat.

"What might you have taught Qrow specialize in, Professor?" she asked.

"The waltz seemed a natural choice," Ozpin said, "given the simplicity of the traditional steps and the number of interesting variations. We've started some introductory swing and tango, but there are a great many challenging versions from which to choose. These days I let Qrow pick whichever catches his attention."

Ozpin sipped his coffee, the thought still incomplete. "He has become _almost_ civilized,” he teased. “Why, at the Vytal Festival, he may have even convinced the other guests that he knew the difference between a coffee spoon and a dessert spoon, and he hasn't stepped on my feet during a dance in months."

"Hey!" Qrow exclaimed. "If I step on your feet, it is because you deserve it," he growled under his breath.

"Qrow? Civilized? I don't think it's possible, Headmaster," she snickered.

Qrow shot her a side glare and a warning, _"Et tu,_ Calico?"

"Is that Latin?" she interrupted, the itch of curiosity unbearable at this point.

Qrow paused. “Oh. Yeah, it is.”

"Another - admittedly inadvertent - lesson I've instilled," Ozpin remarked. "Ferra calls it a bad habit of mine. I'm not inclined to agree with calling something a bad habit if it's something I do when I'm in a good mood." The headmaster shrugged. "I'm afraid I can't break it now. When I'm happy, Latine loqui coactus sum."

Another sip of coffee, another secret smile. 

He spoke freely by all outward appearances, but the words never quite matched his tone, the truth slipping somewhere between.

Calico frowned. She was accustomed to people with fake faces and hidden agendas, but Ozpin was a master of it. It was impossible to like someone who never showed themselves.

And yet Qrow seemed to acknowledge the secrets and adore him still. 

"It seems everyone who becomes close to me is forced to learn Latin, at least at an elementary level, or else incessantly suspect that I'm speaking ill about them before their very eyes."

 _"Amoris lingua,"_ Qrow teased. "It is amazing what you can get away with when said with a smile in another language. I called Port a hot air balloon and he thanked me," he chuckled.

"Then perhaps this is something I too should learn since I will likely be subjected to it? Since you seem to have picked it up in your spare time, Qrow," she remarked.

Qrow's shot her a strong side stare. 

_How odd,_ she mused. _He’s possessive._

"Qrow can be quite motivated to learn when he thinks it will benefit his troublemaking," Ozpin remarked lightly. "And Professor Port would actually accept 'hot air balloon' as a compliment in any language. If you would like to pick up a language a hobby, Miss Read, I would of course support it. After all, _non scholae sad vitae discimus."_

The quote seemed directed more toward Qrow than Calico, given her ignorance of the words, as though the headmaster sensed Qrow's reluctance to allow her into the secret group and wished to reassure him.

 _"Non scholae sed secreto discimus,"_ Qrow muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Calico asked.

"Nothing," Qrow said, smiling sweetly.

Calico pushed down her annoyance. Why bother bring her to meet Ozpin if Qrow was going to covet the conversation and inside information? 

This was just showing off.

"It takes a lot of time to learn. Time we could better spend doing _other things,"_ he winked. 

Of his intention she had no question, causing her to return the grin, her fingers trailing down his arm affectionately.

Ozpin politely sipped his coffee, pretending not to hear the implication of his student. 

“If not Latin, then perhaps you will teach me some more advanced dances?” Calico purred above a whisper to Qrow.

He cocked an eyebrow, the inquisitive little thing echoing her own sense for curiosities. 

“A tango?” she asked. He grinned.

“We’re already experts at the horizontal,” Qrow reassured.

“I was thinking more of the Mistral,” she interrupted.

The Mistral Tango was famous worldwide – primarily because it was the horizontal tango, but with more acrobats and clothes. Not to mention, illegal in Atlas.

From across the desk, Professor Ozpin made a soft noise of surprise into his mug.

“Qrow hasn’t quite…mastered the tango yet,” the headmaster said – too carefully, in Calico’s opinion. “Those steps may require more time to learn.”

“Will you teach him, Headmaster?” she pressed, her light tone disarming. “Not many are well versed, and I would love to have an adequate partner.”

 _Best to air things out now,_ she thought, before she and Qrow were more serious. Qrow liked the headmaster enough to be jealous and possessive, as evidenced by Thistle, the Latin, and…too many things, really. 

But how did Ozpin feel in return?

She liked Qrow, but not enough to get involved in some teacher-student love triangle.

Ozpin’s eyes flickered to Qrow – only for a moment, before returning to Calico. 

“If,” he said, very, very slowly, “Qrow would like me to, I am not inclined to quell his desire to learn. But I must say that the Mistral Tango is not inherently…school-appropriate.”

There it was. The look, the pause, the consent to secrecy. 

Qrow scoffed, “Since when am I school appropriate?”

 _There. A returned look._ Calico watched Qrow tear his eyes from Ozpin before he could linger too long, silently speaking volumes.

_Are you both too hopeless to notice?_

_…you poor unfortunate fools._

“That is beside the point,” Ozpin said. “I would have hoped that with a proper guest, and a foreign one at that, you could reel in your conscious lack of manners at least for a single evening.”

Calico felt Qrow shrug beside her. 

Perhaps it best to play up niceties now while she could; her instincts shouting foreboding warnings on deaf ears.

"Please, Professor Ozpin, tell me some of the more exciting adventures my Qrow has gotten himself into," she offered as means of distraction for the men. They either needed to commit or be committed for their stupidity.

 _Some enigma of a headmaster,_ she thought cynically. She still couldn’t be certain to what degree Ozpin was fond of Qrow, but she was certain of one thing: she was a distraction for Qrow.

Which was perfectly fine, of course. The young man served the same purpose for her.

But one day, Qrow would be insistent. One day he would force himself to choose: Ozpin or her. 

And for once, Calico wasn’t sure what the answer would be. 

The whole idea was ridiculous, of course. 

_Monogamy._ If she could hiss at a word, Calico would.

She wouldn’t mind sharing him – that was her way.

 _But._ She watched Qrow’s eyes linger on Ozpin once more. She sure as shit wasn’t going to sit back and wait for whatever this was to crawl by at a snail’s pace.

 _Best use him while you can, dearie, cause you’ll be losing him,_ she sighed internally.

Ozpin paused in reaching for a cookie, surprised by her question. 

"Ah," he said. "Where do I begin? _Your Qrow - "_ he emphasized the words, shooting an amused glance toward the young man " - has quite the reputation for trouble. He started that quite early in his career at Beacon. Any story that you prefer, Qrow? Perhaps fireworks incident? The time you broke a student's nose in the middle of Professor Port's class? Or the tar and feathering of your classmates?"

Qrow rolled his eyes at the phrase.

"Tar and feathering?" Calico repeated with amusement. "Oh my, this one I must hear. We can end on romantic fireworks," she teased.

"He had it coming," Qrow replied. "And it was more than just his nose," he corrected.

"Don't forget my landing strategy. I looked fabulous that day."

Ozpin laughed aloud now. "Ah, yes, your _landing strategy._ I had nearly forgotten. I believe it was Mr. Xiao Long who you befriended on your first day at Beacon? How long did it take him to convince you a skirt was a kilt?"

"About ten seconds. It wasn't even skilled. 'Hey Qrow, here is your uniform. It's new and edgy - a kilt.' He was really enthusiastic about it. 'You sure it's not a skirt?' I asked cause it sure looked like one. 'Noooo!' he assured me," Qrow threw his hands up and wave them around as Taiyang had done, imitating the man perfectly. "'It's a kilt. All the rage now.' It took me maybe... twenty minutes? to figure out he was full of shit. But by then I'd gotten so many compliments on my legs I didn't care." 

Qrow leaned into Calico, "'Like what you see?'" he quoted, gesturing his legs out.

Calico burst into laughter. "Oh yes, I do. Very much. I wish I could have seen it..." she said wiping false tears from her eyes. "Your legs...are very nice..." she attempted to smooth her laughter with a compliment.

"I know," Qrow grinned. Obviously, his ego did not need the stroking. 

Ozpin chuckled into his coffee. "I admit that was one first year initiation I won't soon forget," he remarked. "Ferra elbowed me, asking if I had noticed. 'Noticed what?' I asked. 'Why, the boy in the skirt.' And I told her - " the headmaster paused to hold back a snicker " - it was hardly my place to judge one's taste in clothing. I even remarked that there is no stipulation in the Beacon rulebook that restricted ladies to the skirt uniform." Another quiet laugh. "She searched the rulebook for two days before she admitted I was right.

"So I let Qrow wear the skirt," the professor finished with a shrug. "He hadn't broken any rules, and I was immensely curious as to his reaction, as I was about to throw him and his classmates off a cliff."

"Yep, bet it even gave a nice view au naturale," Qrow chuckled.

"Au nautrale? You flashed the faculty?" Calico asked.

_Did you look at him then too, Ozpin?_

Qrow shrugged. "And the students below. If you're going to wear a kilt, you have to wear it how it was meant to be worn."

Calico, too, smiled finding it only too easy to picture her bold boyfriend flashing the whole class.

"Needless to say, I was pretty popular with the ladies after that," Qrow added with a wink.

Ozpin, clearly amused, was still too polite to mention his thoughts on the matter, opting to change the subject to something less coarse. 

"So, Miss Read, how do you find Vale as compared to Mistral and Atlas? I'm always curious as to first impressions."

"Oh, I love it here. I do love Mistral - you simply can't find more variety whether it be natural surroundings, or diversified travelers, or the trade posts...but the thieves can be tiring. Atlas is so rigid it’s difficult to relax, but it is delightful to pull a prank or two on the military. Vale is very different from both - there is an unspoken safety about it. You’re able to relax, yet remain civilized. It is an unusual combination where I come from."

Qrow squeezed her hand affectionately, approving of her performance; however, in truth it was not a performance. That was her honest answer.

She simply left out the bit about her being one of said thieves. 

Ozpin cleared his throat, eyes moving back toward Qrow.

"Yes, it did seem as though the Atlas military was a popular target for pranks at the Vytal Festival. Among other distinguished figures..."

The look the headmaster gave Qrow had meaning; Calico suspecting regarding Professor Thistle, but the emphasis on Atlas felt intentional. Her glance flickered from one man to the other, their stare unblinking, intensely focused on each other. 

_Fools._

She frowned to herself, feeling a vague irritation creep under her skin. 

Qrow seemed to put a lot of exertion into including Calico in the conversation, but failed the moment Ozpin spoke again. With her, it was all blood and sweat.

With Ozpin, it was effortless.

The very last thing Calico expected from his meeting was finding herself in direct competition for Qrow’s affection. 

Time would tell if she wanted to throw down, or simply back off.

"Good thing no one was hurt," Qrow said, finally breaking eye contact with the headmaster. At long last his attention returned to Calico, where it belonged. "You had fun at the festival, didn't you, Cal?"

"Of course! It is where we got together after all," she added with a wink - a trick she had learned from Qrow.

She hazarded a glance at Ozpin, to measure his reaction, but he remained unreadable. Was he envious of her? Did he see her as a threat?

And even if he didn’t – did that mean he was oblivious to Qrow’s feelings? That he had none of his own? Or simply that he didn’t think Calico worth the title?

She resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose to relieve the tension.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Qrow had chosen her for the time being, and for the time being, she would enjoy it to the fullest.

Unrequited love be damned.

Life and love are selfish.

The meeting wrapped up with a few more polite laughs and empty courtesies, Qrow taking Calico’s hand as they rose from their seats.

“Before you leave, Qrow,” Ozpin said, “could I trouble you to remain a moment? I have some information regarding that assignment I gave you.”

Qrow released her hand, turning back to the headmaster.

Calico restrained a sigh.

_Of course._

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Qrow whispered.

There it was – a dismissal, their plans pushed back to accommodate a professor who may or may not return romantic feelings for her boyfriend.

_What a damn soap opera._

Nevertheless, she smiled at Qrow and walked away, pressing the elevator button for the ground floor, distinctly aware of the strained silence between the two men as they waited for her absence.

***

Raven Branwen sat in Beacon Academy’s courtyard, a book in hand and Taiyang’s head in her lap, his limbs stretched out in the grass. She stared at the text without seeing the words, painfully aware of each minute that passed, knowing that Qrow and Calico sat in the headmaster’s office doing gods knew what.

She had seen them go into the main hall together, arm in arm.

There was only one place they could be headed.

She felt the weight on her legs lighten and looked down. Tai stared back up at her, propped up on one elbow.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No,” she said, with a sigh. “Sorry, just distracted.”

Tai nodded with the resignation that indicated he knew she didn’t mean her book. 

“Go ahead,” she said, easing him back against her. “I’m listening.”

“It’s about – “

“Wait.” She sat up, seeing Calico emerge from the hall – alone. “Give me a minute.” She slipped from beneath Tai, ignoring the stricken look on his face.

This was important, after all.

Calico didn’t look surprised to see Raven approaching her, turning toward the other girl expectantly.

“Watching me?” she asked in lieu of a greeting.

“I’m not following you,” Raven said flatly. “Have a good visit with Professor Ozpin?”

Calico held the stare for a moment. “Delightful,” she deadpanned. 

“Where’s Qrow?”

Calico snorted. “Do you really have to ask?”

Raven grit her teeth. 

_I knew it._

“He ditched you?” Raven asked. Maybe she was being mean, and maybe Calico didn’t entirely earn it, but Raven’s temper flared, and she couldn’t pull her words now.

“Ozpin asked him to stay, so he stayed,” Calico said. “That’s all.”

“That’s enough,” Raven said.

Calico raised an eyebrow. “Oh,” she said. “So you see it too?”

Raven paused, eyes narrowing. “See what?”

Calico laughed. “Oh, come on, Raven. I don’t play those games.”

“Yes, you do. You just don’t want to with me.”

Calico grinned. “Can’t blame me, can you? But yeah, it’s obvious. To everyone except them, I guess.”

Raven’s suspicions faltered at this statement, confusion clouding her formerly certain theories. 

_Everyone knew what, exactly?_

“I don’t,” she said. “I’ve been trying to figure out what they’re plotting for months.”

Calico’s eye widened. “Plotting?”

And then she laughed.

Annoyance roared through Raven.

“You really think that, don’t you?” Calico said, still snickering. “You think their boys’ club is some plot against you? Your tribe?”

“It’s not funny,” Raven hissed. 

“No, it is,” Calico insisted. “You’re just as blind as they are.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Gods, Calico pissed her off. It was like having another Qrow around, but one who didn’t have the privilege of Raven’s blood. As a consequence, she had none of the reasonable boundaries Qrow did – at least, he _used_ to.

She was a bad influence, just like Ozpin.

Calico sighed, rolling her shoulders. “They aren’t plotting against you,” she said. “Contrary to what you think, not everyone spends their lives thinking about you.” She turned her head away as Qrow appeared, suddenly all smiles.

“Have a good chat?” she asked, her voice becoming sweet.

“Yeah, just something about extra credit,” Qrow said, returning her smile but shooting Raven a suspicious glance. “Everything okay here?”

“Of course,” Raven said. “We were just discussing your…extracurricular activities with Ozpin.”

Qrow’s eyes narrowed.

“Hey, nothing wrong with a little extra credit,” Calico cooed. “Come on, Qrow, show me around some more.”

Qrow offered Raven one more glance – a warning – before leaving arm in arm with Calico.

Raven watched them go, hands clenched, her unanswered questions echoing after them. At length she exhaled sharply and turned back to where Tai waited for her. 

“Sorry,” she muttered to him when she sat back down in the grass. “You were saying?”

Tai made a noise of disappointment. “Never mind,” he said, picking himself up. “You really know how to make a point, Raven.”

Irritation bubbled inside her. “Why is everyone speaking in fucking riddles today?” she snapped. “What’s your problem?”

Tai scoffed.

Her eyes widened slightly, taken aback at the attitude.

“Not everyone is out to get you, Raven,” Tai said.

“For fuck’s sake, that girl just said the same thing.”

“Yeah?” Taiyang said. “Maybe she’s okay then. If everyone keeps saying it, maybe you could listen.”

“What did I do to piss you off so much?” she demanded.

“You can’t _enjoy_ anything,” Tai said. “We can’t just sit here on a nice day and do homework without you seeing Qrow and losing your shit. No one’s threatening your damn tribe, Raven. No one is asking you to pick a different side. We’ve all accepted it’s a part of you and you’re the only one with a fucking problem with it.”

“You don’t know that,” Raven hissed, standing up. “You don’t know they aren’t still planning – “

“You know what, Raven?” he interrupted loudly. “I don’t know what else to say. You have Ozpin’s word, you have Qrow’s word, you have all of us with you. Maybe you don’t trust any of us because you’re not worth trusting yourself.” 

He shook his head, tense muscles slumping. 

“Just think about it for a while,” he said, “and let me know if I have any reason not to trust you.”

He walked off, leaving her stunned by his outburst.

He was thinking of leaving her?

_What the hell just happened?_

She wasn’t really sure, and it – along with Qrow, Ozpin, and _that girl_ \- pissed her off too much to reason it out. 

She’d fix things with Taiyang. She couldn’t let him go, not this easily. Not anymore. He was the only thing that calmed her down, made her think that coming to Beacon wasn’t the disaster she was sure it was. 

She needed him.

She hated it, but it was true, and she wasn’t so stubborn that she could let that go.

First she’d hit the gym and hit some things, expel the violence on something that couldn’t fight back; then she’d head back to the dorm and make things right with Tai.

Everything would be okay.

She couldn’t tell if she believed that, but it’s what Tai would say.

Everything is okay.

_This will work out._

She didn’t believe, but she desperately wanted to.


	11. In which everyone blames Qrow for something he could not have done, Ferra counts the days until her retirement, and Ozpin quietly wrestles with new emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested song: "The Attractions of Youth" by Barns Courtney

**8:03AM**

It began with a bang.

A fog horn, to be perfectly accurate - in the academy library. A student was admitted to the infirmary after sitting on what appeared to a booby-trapped chair, armed with a pressure-sensitive fog horn. The girl was visibly shaken, unable to make out the words of the equally startled librarian or the medical staff that attended her.

"We'll let her rest," Dr. Flax told Professor Agrios, when the deputy headmistress arrived to investigate the incident. "It happened so unexpectedly that her aura didn't activate immediately, but she should make a full recovery. We'll hold her here for twenty-four hours as a precaution."

Ferra pressed her lips together. The incident smelled like Qrow Branwen.

Summer Rose answered the curt knock on the door, still clad in pajamas, hair askew, silver eyes widening when she found a professor at the threshold of her dorm room.

_"Branwen,"_ Ferra said, before the girl could recover from her surprise.  
Summer only pointed at the furthest bed, where Qrow Branwen was face down in his pillow, sheets and legs tangled in an impressive display of contortion. 

"How long has he been here?" Ferra demanded.

"Uh. All night, I guess?" Summer said.

"And last night?"

"He was with me from dinner until bed," Taiyang said from his pillow, the voices having woken him. 

Ferra narrowed her eyes at the young man. "You're not covering for him, are you?"

"N-no, ma'am," Taiyang said, turning pale. 

"They stayed up until two playing video games," Raven said, her monotone drifting from where she lay, hidden in the sheets, beside Taiyang. "It was irritating."

Bad news all around. Ferra may suspect Taiyang to lie for Qrow, but Raven had no interest in protecting her brother. Ferra sighed. 

"Fine. But Branwen, you're on _thin ice_ today. Do you hear me?"

The young man in question finally raised his head, blinking at the noise. "Wha..?"

Ferra turned on her heel, with every intention of heading straight to the headmaster's office to lecture him on his favorite student's latest (albeit unproven) plot against fellow classmates. 

She didn't make it far from the dorms before she heard the screaming.

And then the explosion.

It wasn't a proper explosion, she thought as she ran toward the faculty living quarters; there was no fire or smoke that she could see, but instead a cloud of fine powder, as though someone had blown through a wall –

Which of course they had.

The front of the faculty quarters now sported an angry, gaping hole, the dust settling around it like fine snow, shouts echoing from inside the building. Outside, however, Ferra's attention landed on Peter Port, flailing his limbs about in a sort of panicked dance that would have been amusing if not for the damage to her school.

Or perhaps if he had not been armed. He aimed the blunderbuss toward the ground itself, following a target Ferra could not see, the barrel rising back toward the building -

"PETE, DON'T YOU DARE."

The professor dropped the weapon, fleeing to her side.

"What on _earth_ is going on - "

"MICE," the professor roared, his volume built on terror. _"Mice,_ Professor Agrios, dozens and dozens of them loose in my room - "

"You blew up half a building as a form of _pest control?"_

"They aren't mere pests!" Port exclaimed. "What they lack in size they make up for in viciously sharp teeth and evil red eyes - "

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Ferra said. "Stop waving weapons around and calm down. I'll have maintenance get rid of them."

"And find the scoundrel that did this to me?"

Ferra paused. "Do you have reason to believe the mice were put in your room?"

"Every reason!" Port boomed. "It's not a secret among the TAs that I have a perfectly good reason to view mice as the terrors they are!"

"Were there really a dozen mice?"

Port hesitated, looking slightly embarrassed. "Well. Perhaps only six. But no less terrifying!"

"Uh huh. Well, as you were, soldier. I'll get maintenance out here as soon as I can, if you promise to stop blowing up my school."

"Uh. Yes, ma'am. Terribly sorry."

At least he had the decency to look ashamed of his actions, Ferra thought, turning from the damage as she pulled her scroll from her pocket. Maintenance dispatched, she continued her march - now more determined than ever - toward the headmaster's office. 

Qrow Branwen was something of a casual friend of Peter Port – had been since Port was a TA. She wondered if he was privy to Port's unusual fear.

Of course, Branwen had been in bed - Ferra saw him herself. And yet there was no denying that this sort of prank had his name all over it. She didn't know _how,_ but she was determined to prove it.

**8:54AM**

Professor Ozpin was not alone. 

Ferra stepped off the elevator, the cheerful _ping_ drowned by a raised voice.

She found Ozpin at his desk, hands clasped before him as he listened to the angry monologue echoing below the slow groans of the gears overhead. In front of the headmaster, stood an _almost _familiar figure: Professor Reed Lesca, dyed bright red from head to toe.__

__Of course, Ferra couldn't be certain _all_ of him was as red as his hair and face, but he gestured in outrage with crimson-tinted hands. _ _

__“Ferra,” Ozpin said, his voice giving a hint of relief, which meant of course he was desperate. “There seems to be an issue with the faculty-issued shampoo.”_ _

__“So I see,” Ferra said, with no amount of sympathy for Lesca. “I’ll issue an immediate notice to the rest of the faculty.”_ _

__“Thank you, Ferra,” Ozpin said._ _

__“What about me?” Lesca demanded, turning in his chair as Ozpin rose to attend to his empty coffee mug. “I’m still - !” He motioned to his very red skin in outrage._ _

__“It’s a student prank, Reed,” Ozpin said lightly. “If you let them know minor inconveniences like this affect you, you’ll become a permanent target.”_ _

__“But – “_ _

__“I assure you, it will wash off eventually, and in the meantime, I have every intention of finding the parties responsible.”_ _

__Lesca grumbled under his breath, but even he had to concede this was the best Ozpin could promise. He sighed with all the drama of a whiny teenager, rising._ _

__“Fine,” he said, as though he had agreed to a compromise beneath him. “But I want to personally be consulted regarding the punishment when you catch the students responsible.”_ _

__“I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of that right,” Ozpin said, with a small, false smile._ _

__The elevator closed behind Lesca and the headmaster watched it drop several floors before letting out a long sigh himself, returning to his desk._ _

__“Ferra, I hope you’re here with good tidings,” he said, with half a smile that indicated he suspected otherwise._ _

__“Afraid not, sir. There have been some incidents this morning.”_ _

__“Incidents beyond the shampoo and the fog horn?” Ozpin asked, his tone weary._ _

__“Pete blew up half his apartment because someone let in a dozen mice.”_ _

__Ozpin let out a long breath. “Of course,” he said._ _

__“It’s being handled, sir. Drink your coffee and I’ll take care of it.”_ _

__Ozpin made a quiet noise of appreciation. “You’re a saint, Ferra. Have you…any idea of who is responsible?”_ _

__“You mean, have I checked to see if it’s Branwen?” Ferra countered._ _

__Ozpin cleared his throat, raising his mug. “Ah, well, I do loathe to jump to conclusions…”_ _

__“He was in bed when I stopped by the STRQ dorm,” Ferra huffed, still annoyed that her prime suspect looked – at the moment – perfectly innocent. “I admit I don’t see how he could have set all this up and gotten back into bed without anyone noticing.”_ _

__Ozpin hummed, a sign he was pleased by this information._ _

__Ferra restrained rolling her eyes; Ozpin wouldn’t care if the prankster was never caught so long as it wasn’t Branwen being punished._ _

__The fool._ _

__“Well,” Ozpin said lightly, “I have no doubt you’ll find the culprit, Ferra. _ut incepit fidelis sic permanet,”__ _

__Ferra had no idea what that meant and didn’t care. She only knew that without proper motivation, Ozpin had no true interest in helping her get to the bottom of this. Not, she thought, that it was any different from any other day involving student shenanigans._ _

__“I’ll be off then, sir,” she said, bracing herself for what other shoe would drop once she left the office._ _

__“Very good,” Ozpin said, taking a sip of coffee._ _

__And then he promptly spit it across his desk._ _

__Ferra froze, wide-eyed, blinking at the mess on the headmaster’s desk._ _

__Ozpin himself looked nothing short of shocked, a hand held delicately over his mouth._ _

__“Sir…?”_ _

__Without a word, Ozpin was on his feet, at the coffee machine, lifting the lid of the device to peer in, his expression turning hard. Then he sighed, removing his glasses for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose._ _

__“Ferra, please have Mr. Branwen sent up to my office for the remainder of the day,” he said, his voice carefully devoid of emotion, “and have maintenance clean the soil from my coffee machine. I will be in the faculty lounge getting coffee in the meantime.”_ _

__Ferra watched him stalk to the elevator, mug and cane in hand. As the elevator doors closed, she held back a snicker. So Branwen still had the balls to hit the headmaster in his reign of terror._ _

___I’m actually impressed._ _ _

__The elevator dropped to the faculty lounge, and, simultaneously, Ferra’s scroll pinged._ _

__She sighed as dramatically as Lesca._ _

__What had Branwen done now?_ _

__**10:15AM** _ _

__Professor Agrios arrived in Lecture Hall No. 3 to find the Semblance and Aura class waiting outside. Professor Peach spotted the deputy headmistress and scurried forward, hands clasped._ _

__“I’m so sorry to bother, Ferra,” she said lowly. “It’s just that – as it is – the hall is unusable without making something of a mess.”_ _

__“What’s the problem?” Ferra asked._ _

__“It’s – well. Water.”_ _

__Ferra gave Professor Peach an expectant look._ _

__“Just…see for yourself.”_ _

__Ferra pushed the door open, blinking at the sight that met her. The floor boasted a glass of water at each corner of every tile, leading up to the podium, similarly covered. Ferra looked down at the glass at her feet, finally realizing the real problem._ _

__Every one of the glasses were upside down._ _

__Ferra sighed heavily, glancing at her watch. Two hours into the school day, and half the school was damaged or unavailable._ _

__“Lecture Hall No. 2 should be empty until eleven,” Ferra said._ _

__“About that,” Professor Peach said._ _

__“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sharon, what now?”_ _

__Professor Peach cleared her throat lightly, motioning toward a student behind her – covered head to toe in chalk dust._ _

__“There’s at least one trap set up that we know about,” Professor Peach said._ _

__“Does that mean class is canceled?” a student from the crowd called._ _

__“No, Mr. Basil, it does not!” Ferra snapped. “All of you, into Hall No. 2!”_ _

__“But,” a student immediately protested amidst the murmuring that followed, “if there are more traps…”_ _

__“ARE YOU NOT HUNTSMEN IN TRAINING?” Ferra roared. “BUTTS IN SEATS, NOW!”_ _

__Students clamored forward, more afraid of the deputy headmistress than of the possibility of being suffocated by chalk dust. Professor Peach followed, giving Ferra a sympathetic glance._ _

__The door behind them all closed, a sudden _crash_ coming from within, a scream and a chorus of laughter following._ _

__Ferra rubbed her eyes until she saw spots._ _

___It had to be Branwen._ _ _

__She pulled her scroll from her pocket and shot off a text to her boss._ _

___Is Branwen there?_ _ _

__Ozpin’s reply came instantly._ _

___He arrived immediately after you left._ _ _

__Ferra chewed her lip, glancing at the waterlogged lecture hall._ _

__Branwen’s presence in the headmaster’s office _now_ didn’t clear him from the possibility that he had set this up last night._ _

__Although the alibi offered by Xiao Long and the rest of Team STRQ still stood._ _

___Would STR cover for Q?_ _ _

__It was impossible to predict the behavior of young people._ _

__She walked away, shooting a message to the maintenance crew that Lecture Hall No. 2 required some drying out, slipping into the girls’ room to splash water on her face and recount the days until she retired._ _

__She ignored the student washing her hands at the further sink, cupping her hands under the cold stream, bracing herself against the welcome shock of it against her cheeks. Only after she had dried her face did she shoot a curious glance to the other body in the restroom._ _

__“I think your hands are clean enough, my dear,” she said._ _

__“Help,” the girl said softly, and tugged at the hand on the faucet._ _

__It only took a moment for Ferra to realize the girl appeared to be glued to the faucet handle._ _

__She let out a long breath between pursed lips._ _

__“Don’t pull,” she said, walking over to the girl, squinting at the situation. “You’ll rip your skin off. Now, how did this happen?”_ _

__“I don’t know,” the girl wailed, tears welling in her eyes. “I just washed my hands, and then – then – “_ _

__“All right, calm down and let me see what I’m working with.” Ferra stooped, lifting the girl’s hand to peer at the skin stuck to the metal. “Looks like basic super glue.”_ _

__“Super glue?” the girl repeated, her tone growing to a moan._ _

__“Easy,” Ferra said. “It’s dissolved well enough with acetone.”_ _

__“A-acetone?”_ _

__“The stuff in your nail polish remover,” Ferra said, already texting yet another maintenance worker with the requirements for fixing _this_ particular disaster. With that confirmation, she eyed the girl._ _

__“Maintenance will be here in about ten minutes to get you free. I want you checked out in the infirmary afterward,” she said._ _

__“Wait!” the girl called, when Ferra turned around. “You’re just going to leave me?”_ _

__Ferra restrained a sigh of impatience. “Maintenance is on their way.”_ _

__“But…but can’t you stay?”_ _

__“You got into this mess because you had to wash your hands after using the facilities, did you not?” Ferra asked._ _

__“Yes…”_ _

__“Then you’ll be fine for ten minutes,” she said, and turned on her heel, scroll in hand, waiting for the next shoe to drop._ _

__**10:48AM** _ _

__Ferra arrived back at the headmaster’s office to find him and Qrow Branwen with a chess set between them. Ozpin glanced up from moving a piece, offering her a diplomatic smile._ _

__“Welcome back,” he said, or started to say, interrupted by the sudden sound of music coming from his desk._ _

__He watched the monitors appear, casting green light over his surprised expression. He ran fingertips over the keys, a red error message reading, the music continuing._ _

__Branwen remained in place, his expression just as surprised as the headmaster’s, wisely keeping his mouth shut._ _

__“Something the matter, sir?” Ferra said loudly, to be heard over the song – a traditional Vacuo funeral march._ _

__“I – well – “ Ozpin continued to work with the monitors, each one now flashing red._ _

__Ferra waited patiently, watching the headmaster attempt in vain to restore command to the computer. After several minutes, Ozpin simply sat back down, and the three of them remained silent while the song finished._ _

__Ozpin cleared his throat. “You…were saying, Ferra?”_ _

__She sighed. “Just to report, sir – all liquid soap in restrooms has been replaced with bar soap until we can ascertain whether the liquid soap is safe. All lecture halls have been cleared of obstructions. Repairs are underway on the faculty quarters damaged early this morning. Alerts have been sent out to all faculty to use personal bath products until further notice.”_ _

__“Thank you, Ferra.”_ _

__“And here, sir? Anything to report to me?”_ _

__Utterly unnecessary question, given the prank on the headmaster’s computer that she had just witnessed, but Ozpin was too polite – and too stubborn – to admit even now that these pranks were getting out of hand._ _

__Or that the culprit was sitting immediately before him._ _

___Fine,_ she thought. _We’ll see who cracks first.__ _

__“My coffee machine has been cleaned and I am happy to say seems uninjured,” Ozpin said, his voice forcibly light. “I’ve not heard of any issues in the faculty lounge, and Mr. Branwen has been with me at all times since arriving.”_ _

__“Professor Agrios, I swear I didn’t - “_ _

__“Quiet, Branwen; speaking will only make things worse. I’ll see that security runs a full sweep on your computer, sir,” Ferra said. “Prank or not, if someone was able to access your private files – “_ _

__“Yes, all right, Ferra,” Ozpin said, an edge in his tone. “I’ll have it done.”_ _

__“Thank you, sir,” she said, as her scroll pinged. “I’m sure that’s yet another small catastrophe for me to fix.”_ _

__“How could it be?” Ozpin said, with a poorly hidden smile. “That is, if the student responsible is sitting right here.”_ _

__“Enjoy the gloating while you can, sir,” Ferra said, heading to the elevator, her text reporting an issue in the student dorms. “Just remember – he’s gotten you twice and it’s only eleven.”_ _

__Ozpin merely smiled is private smile, but she saw the side glance he offered Branwen as the elevator doors closed._ _

__**11:23AM** _ _

__When she arrived, the student dorms were neither destroyed nor on fire, which was by now what she expected. Instead, everything seemed quiet, security on scene directing her to Team ROYL’s dorm room, stating that this was more within her jurisdiction than theirs._ _

___Comforting,_ she thought. _ _

__At least it meant no one was dead._ _

__Not until she caught Qrow Branwen red-handed, that is._ _

__Team ROYL were still in bed – or on top of them, in any case. Ferra stopped in the threshold, vaguely aware of the smell of strawberries, giving them a long look._ _

__“Do you boys need help getting dressed for class?” she asked dryly._ _

__All four began speaking at once, silenced by a stern raised hand._ _

__“Mr. Royale, speak for your team,” Ferra said._ _

__“It’s…it’s the floor,” Royale said at last. “It’s…”_ _

__Ferra dropped her eyes to study the red carpet – which bore an unmistakable sheen today. Hesitantly, she lifted a foot and toed the carpet, watching it ripple like a thing alive._ _

__It took a long moment to appreciate the fact that the entire floor was covered in several inches of strawberry gelatin._ _

__She laughed out loud, despite all things. “As tragic as this is, boys, I don’t see what I can do for you.”_ _

__“Come on, Professor,” Yale Remington whined. “Don’t make us walk through it! It’s slimy!”_ _

__“Yeah!” Royale pleaded. “Your Semblance – “_ _

__“My Semblance is reserved for true Beacon emergencies,” Ferra said, “and I’m afraid your inconvenience of requiring a shower before your grueling schedule of lunch isn’t quite enough. I’ll send maintenance to see to your carpet when they’re available.”_ _

__She left them then, tempted for just a moment to text Qrow Branwen and congratulate _this_ well-deserved prank, - but then her scroll pinged anew and she withdrew those encouraging words._ _

__A simple text from security: “Possible body found on eastern side of courtyard.”_ _

__So much for the optimism against death._ _

__She sighed and headed to the front of the school, listening to the whines that came from the Team ROYL dorm._ _

__“They put my books in Jello too!”_ _

__**11:46AM** _ _

__The body was nothing more than two pillows wrapped in a blanket and duct-tape, Ferra berating the security on scene for not checking more thoroughly before calling her outside._ _

__The entire thing was amateurish, compared to the sophistication of the funeral march and the dirt coffee._ _

___Almost like a distraction._ _ _

__The next call came while she was still lecturing security._ _

__Evidently, after tracking gelatin down several corridors, Team ROYL had discovered the men’s showerheads had been equipped with various types of bullion cubes, and they left the bathrooms smelling strongly of chicken soup._ _

__With a very, very long sigh, Ferra began the walk back to the student dorms._ _

__**12:24PM** _ _

__“I see,” Ozpin said into his scroll, moving his queen away from Qrow’s clutches. “Yes, thank you, Ferra. I will take that under advisement.”_ _

__He disconnected before his deputy headmistress could continue, sensing she wished for a longer conversation than he. He restrained a sigh, giving the student across from him a small smile._ _

__“It seems the chaos on campus continues,” he said lightly, “and so I have promised Ferra your parole until further notice. She’s contacted your professors that you have been given detention, which should satisfy Professor Lesca.”_ _

__Qrow, one elbow on the desktop and a hand on a chess piece, rolled his eyes._ _

__“All because she thinks I’m somehow doing all this from your office,” he said. “She sounds just like Lesca.”_ _

__“Now, now,” Ozpin said, chuckling, “no need for such harsh words. You _do_ have a record, Qrow.”_ _

__“Yeah, but come on, Oz,” Qrow protested. “You have to admit that even _I’m_ not good enough to pull all of this from here. I’d have to have like…twenty accomplices.”_ _

__“I confess I have not figured out exactly how you’ve plotted this series of schemes,” Ozpin said evenly, moving a bishop forward._ _

__Qrow groaned. “You too, Oz? I’m telling you, it’s _not me.”__ _

__“Hmm,” Ozpin said._ _

___Did_ Ozpin believe him?_ _

__Difficult to say. Qrow had, over the years, certainly told Ozpin truths that were not easy to believe. But he had also been caught in lies, and a prank war that involved the entirely of Beacon Academy when his foreign girlfriend was visiting was quite the coincidence._ _

__But, like his deputy headmistress, Ozpin didn’t have the slightest idea of how he could be doing it._ _

__“I’ve been informed,” Ozpin continued, reading Qrow’s expression as the young man considered his next move, “that the rest of your team is accounted for. Mr. Xiao Long and Miss Branwen were seen in the cafeteria for lunch, and Miss Rose was found a few minutes ago duct-taped to your dorm ceiling.”_ _

__“What?” Qrow dropped his rook. “Well, okay. So she has to know who did it.”_ _

__“Curiously, she has no knowledge of that. She claims she was taking a nap and simply woke, facing the floor of your dorm.”_ _

__“So,” Qrow said, picking up the rook again, “I couldn’t have done it because I’m _up here._ And Tai and Raven aren’t, because they were somewhere else.”_ _

__“Other friends, perhaps?”_ _

__Qrow snorted. “What other friends? Ones who like me enough to get expelled for this?”_ _

__Ozpin considered this, pushing his bishop forward again. “Check,” he said._ _

__“I dunno, Oz,” Qrow said, moving his king back. “Looks like I have competition.”_ _

__Ozpin raised an eyebrow._ _

___What an odd thing to say._ _ _

__Qrow, competitive at best and territorial at worst, so nonchalant about another student taking the crown from him?_ _

__No, he was responsible._ _

___Somehow._ _ _

__But at the moment, Ozpin was completely uncertain how._ _

__“Checkmate,” Qrow announced._ _

__Ozpin blinked from the fog of his thoughts, turning his eyes back to the board._ _

__“Hmm,” he said again._ _

__“I gotta take a piss,” Qrow said, pushing his chair back. “You gonna let me go on my own, or do I finally get to see your apartment you say doesn’t exist?”_ _

__“You can use the use the facilities on the faculty floor,” Ozpin said, “but I have eyes everywhere, Mr. Branwen.”_ _

__“Kinky,” came the unconcerned reply._ _

__“I’ll order lunch in,” the headmaster said, as Qrow headed to the elevator. “I think that would be…safest.”_ _

__“Sure. You know what I like.”_ _

__Ozpin rolled his eyes, sending a quick text to the kitchens as he pulled up the video feed in the elevator._ _

__Qrow was already looking back, offering a quick wink as the elevator stopped a few floors below._ _

__Ozpin rolled his eyes again, uncertain whether the bravado meant Qrow’s innocence or confidence in not being caught._ _

__Either way, it was a shift of power that Ozpin felt keenly, and did not appreciate._ _

__In on the monitors, Qrow sauntered off the elevator and into the nearby restroom. Ozpin turned his wrist to check the time._ _

__And waited._ _

__How many minutes until Ozpin had to call security because Qrow escaped out the window, a crow flying away unnoticed?_ _

__Five, ten? More, to preclude the embarrassing possibility of finding the student still present –_ _

__Less than two minutes, and Qrow reappeared, sauntering back to the elevator, blowing a kiss at the camera._ _

__Ozpin felt the heat creep up his cheeks._ _

___He’s impossible,_ Ozpin thought. He was getting away with it and he damn well knew it._ _

__“You don’t look happy to see me,” Qrow remarked, when he reclaimed his seat. “So where were we?”_ _

__“Another game?” Ozpin offered, unable to keep the stern note from his voice._ _

__Qrow shrugged. “Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind instead of losing another round?”_ _

__“How are you doing it?”_ _

__The direct question didn’t alarm the student; Qrow leaned back, a smirk on his lips. “Look, it’s really flattering you think I can. But it’s not me.”_ _

__“It may not be you, but you know how it’s being done.”_ _

__Qrow shrugged again. “Lesca is already on my ass every second of every day, Oz. I don’t need you up there too.”_ _

__He leaned forward, resetting the chess board._ _

__“Unless you want to be,” he added._ _

__Another flush, the headmaster’s jaw clenching. Qrow’s attitude as of late seemed off, as though something at the Vytal Festival gave him new leave to talk back, to push pre-established boundaries, all the while dismissing it as nothing at all._ _

__“Qrow, this is serious. I can overlook the occasional prank, but this is commanding real academy resources. One class was already canceled.”_ _

__“Then keep me here until you catch the guy,” Qrow said, “but, Oz. It’s. _Not._ Me.”_ _

__He held the headmaster’s eyes for a long moment._ _

__His tone was annoyed, like the constant accusations were wearing him down, and yet his objections remained consistent. The eye contact, too, seemed to suggest he had nothing to hide._ _

__“If,” Ozpin began slowly, “I promise not to punish you for any of it – “_ _

__“I still didn’t do it, Oz.”_ _

__With a sigh, Ozpin dropped his gaze, putting his chin in one hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that these pranks are very…you.”_ _

__Qrow laughed. “Thanks, I guess. But you know, that could mean I’m being framed. I have my share of people who don’t like me.”_ _

__“I’ve considered it,” Ozpin said, “but the usual suspects have been pranked themselves.”_ _

__“Lesca?”_ _

__“Food dye in the shampoo,” Ozpin said, valiantly attempting not to smile at the memory._ _

__“Harmless enough to do to yourself.”_ _

__“Oh, come now, Qrow, you know Professor Lesca’s original sin is pride. He would never do anything detrimental to his appearance.”_ _

__“Fair.” Qrow settled back in his seat. “So about the other thing bothering you.”_ _

__Ozpin blinked, looking up. “What other thing?”_ _

__“Oz.”_ _

__The headmaster sighed again; perhaps he was merely tired, but Qrow could always read him well enough._ _

__“It’s…beyond the scope of my concern,” he said carefully, “and I do not want to cause offense.”_ _

__“Say it anyway,” Qrow said._ _

__Ozpin pressed his lips together, reaching for his mug – empty, naturally. Then he leaned forward, clasping his hands._ _

__“Qrow, what are you doing with Miss Read?”_ _

__And there was the look of surprise, a genuine flash of shock on his face._ _

__“Me?” he said, then shook his head. “What does Calico have to do with anything?”_ _

__“I’m not accusing her of anything,” Ozpin said, already regretting saying anything at all. Qrow was defensive now, offended less for himself than for his girlfriend. “My reports tell me she left for town this morning.”_ _

__“You’re checking up on my girlfriend?” Qrow said. “Really?”_ _

__“I keep record of when students leave campus – “_ _

__“She went shopping,” Qrow interrupted, with a glare. “Something to do while I had class. Or detention, I guess.”_ _

__“Qrow, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to impugn her.”_ _

__“So what’s with the questions about her?”_ _

__“I’m…concerned,” Ozpin said. “I believe you care about her very much, and while I’m sure she feels similarly – “_ _

__“You think I’m getting played?” Qrow asked._ _

__“I think one of you is,” Ozpin said quietly._ _

__“It’s not that serious, Professor.”_ _

___Professor._ _ _

__Ozpin felt the sudden distance acutely._ _

__Not that he didn’t deserve it._ _

__“Does she know that?” he asked._ _

__“She knows it better than anyone,” Qrow countered. “I bet she’s the one who breaks it off. We’re just having fun, Oz.”_ _

__Ozpin nodded silently._ _

__The words should have placated him, but the nagging doubts in his head remained, like ghosts whispering suspicions he couldn’t quite hear, guilty thoughts reminding him that he was not allowed to be selfish with Qrow._ _

__“I apologize,” he said at length, “for interfering. For the record, I do think Miss Read suits you, and I wish you both the best.”_ _

__Qrow stared for a moment, studying him – a fair return for the suspicions Ozpin had harbored all morning._ _

__“You’re lonely.”_ _

__Ozpin jerked his head up at the frank declaration, feeling another growing warmth on his face._ _

__“I – “_ _

___What could one say to that?_ _ _

__Nothing false, not with Qrow’s determined stare on him._ _

__“I am not accustomed to being seen as obvious,” Ozpin murmured._ _

__Qrow’s lips twitched._ _

__“I am set in my ways, Qrow, and having you to myself has been something I have grown to expect, and to appreciate. But for every reason I do, others may come to appreciate as well, and I sincerely apologize if my blind selfishness has caused you grief.”_ _

__Qrow hesitated._ _

__“Look,” he said, struggling in the familiar fashion he did when he had to wrestle with emotion, “it’s all right. We all feel that when someone we care about isn’t around as much. And I know how much you care about me, Oz.”_ _

__Ozpin offered a small smile. “I do hope so.”_ _

__“Even though you’re shit at saying so.”_ _

__Ozpin laughed aloud as the elevator pinged. “All right, I deserved that. Now, then, it does appear as though our lunch is here. In typical crow style, I ordered you a bit of everything. Let’s hope the tray doesn’t explode when I lift the cover.”_ _

__Qrow grinned. “Lunch and a show,” he said. “Mind if I hit the bathroom again?”_ _

__“Very well, just – “_ _

__“I know, Oz. Cameras.”_ _

__Ozpin chuckled as Qrow left, watching the elevator drop lower to allow the kitchen staff up. Qrow returned to a generous lunch tray that did not, despite Ozpin’s suspicions, explode or offer anything more than the requested food._ _

__“So what were we talking about?” he asked, settling in and shoving half a sandwich in his mouth._ _

__“How much I care about you,” Ozpin said, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee._ _

__“Oh,” Qrow said, choking slightly on his sandwich. “Right. Well, uh, you know, you could repeat all of it for me. It’s good for me to hear it.”_ _

__Ozpin laughed. “I’m quite sure your ego doesn’t need that.”_ _

__“It does!” Qrow protested, and Ozpin laughed again and Qrow was himself again, at ease with Ozpin, pestering the headmaster for compliments, for details of the pranks that were not his (“To take notes,” he declared); and to settle back, challenging Ozpin to a game of chess or Truth or Dare, and together snickering over Ferra reports of the cafeteria filling with popcorn – alongside charming death threats toward her least favorite student._ _

__This was the Qrow Ozpin had been missing, and what a joy it was to have him back, all to himself, for at least this afternoon._ _


	12. In which Qrow's Semblance catches up with him, and Ozpin begins to question what Qrow means to him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested song: "Guilty Party" by The National

Qrow Branwen and Calico Read perched high in the old tree that towered above the threshold of Haven Academy, legs swinging freely as voices carried from the strike in the courtyard. Students came and went below them, some shooting curious or frightened looks at the noise, the upturned signs that bore hateful messages.

_Keep animals out of Haven!_

_Don’t put weapons in the hands of beasts!_

The couple listened to the chants, to the shouts that echoed from both sides, scuffles breaking out when blood became too heated. Calico rested her head on Qrow’s shoulder and the two joked about what elaborate pranks they could pull on the protesters, musing with vindictive glee about ruined lives, the possibility of Mistral law altered to allow Faunus to attend combat schools freely.

“Uh oh, one of the kids’ moms just showed,” Qrow said, pointing through the foliage.

Calico giggled, watching the mother slap the boy across the courtyard. 

"I've never seen a mother act like that in public," she said jovially.

The young man shrugged. "Me either. Never had parents do that."

Calico remained silent, her smile fading ever so slightly. "I did. My mother used to be like that. Before she died."

Qrow recognized the hesitant tone immediately. She hadn't just _died._

"...humans?"

"Yep."

"Fucking racists."

"She was human too."

This caught Qrow off guard, the young man turning to his girlfriend inquisitively.

"Your dad...?"

She nodded. "Yep. He’s a Faunus."

Calico fell silent, like the depth of the conversation topic drained her.

"We were nomads. My mother was a bandit but with a moral code. Good heart and all that. My dad - " she paused to laugh “ - he was bored one day and went hunting. Caught her in a trap instead while she was running from a mark. Since they both lived outside of civilization, I guess it was easy for them to fall in love without anyone noticing. Without anyone criticizing.

“Years later I came along and everything was perfect. We had a simple life, you know? Visited small towns. Kept to ourselves. Dad's size and strength always prevented anyone from asking too many questions about the bulge in his pants that looked suspiciously like a tail. Mom was naturally charismatic. Could talk her way out of anything."

This time she sighed in her pause.

"You don't have to - " Qrow began.

"Dad wanted to make a present for their anniversary," Calico interrupted. “We had to go to a city for that."

Qrow's eyes narrowed. He could sense the foreboding warning before she finished the story, his body tensing as she continued.

"Someone set off a firecracker for some human celebration. Dad hadn't seen them before and got startled...he...he was found out and we were chased out of the city. Mom tried to stop the hunters, but..."

_Well shit. What do you say to that?_ Qrow wondered. 

People didn’t usually open up to him.

At least – until Ozpin – 

"But your dad's still around, right?" Qrow offered. He couldn't understand the appeal of parents; his mother ran the tribe, but she was hardly anything that resembled a parent. She was a boss, a figurehead. Someone to impress and obey. 

Still, he could appreciate losing a member of your tribe.

Bandits never fully trusted each other, but as far as Qrow could tell, they treated each other close enough like family - eating together, fighting together, fighting with each other...

From a distance, Qrow had watched many similarities between family tribes and bandit tribes.

Up close, he had experienced neither - Qrow's Semblance always serving as a grim warning never to get too close.

"Not really,” Calico said, breaking into his thoughts. “After mom was murdered, he kind of lost it. He pushed me away, saying he would only get me killed too. Enrolled me into Haven saying I had to keep my heritage and eye covered at all times. You know. ‘Cause it’s illegal for me to be here.”

"You didn't hide them from me."

Calico laughed through the shimmer of sadness in her eyes. "Truthfully, I thought you were a Faunus too at first."

"You chased my tail even after finding out my filthy human origin," he teased bumping her shoulder.

"You're...different. Really different. I could see it by the way you fought and the way you interacted and the way you - "

"You really did stalk me, didn't you?"

"I told you, you were my prey."

"Guess that makes you a good Huntress."

"Call it the fine feline in me."

"Is this where I insert jokes about your p - " 

Calico punched Qrow in the shoulder to cut him off, but she was giggling despite the mood moments before.

"You start with that and you won't get laid."

"And what if I become the Huntsman?"

"You'll have to sharpen your skills a lot better than what I've seen if you wanna catch me, lover boy."

"I know your tells."

"I bet you don't," she smirked, pulling Qrow into a kiss.

From below, academy staff appeared, breaking up the strike, students lowering their signs ad dragging them off, shouts carrying over the courtyard indignance – all of it silenced in Qrow’s ears by the touch of something more profound.

***

Taiyang inhaled deeply admiring the sweet smell in the air from the first blooming buds. The air was warm, but somehow cold. A perfect night. Maybe he should ask Raven to –

_No, not yet._

Raven had done her best to apologize – the closest thing to an apology ever heard from Branwen lips, he mused. 

It would be enough, he knew. He wanted to forgive her, wanted to get back to their nightly walks, back to waking up beside her, back to holding her hand during lectures. 

And bless her, she was trying. 

A full week, and she hadn’t spoken a rude word about Calico or Ozpin.

She hadn’t spoken any _kind_ words about them either, but it was a start for the stubbornest woman Taiyang had ever known. 

Maybe that was asking enough for now.

He looked back at the twilight sky, catching sight of a flying form in the distance.

Raven?

_No._

Qrow.

Taiyang sighed, knowing his luck with his teammate's sister just ran out for the night. Qrow was supposed to be gone until morning, supposedly spending the weekend with Calico in Mistral.

_He must have worn his girlfriend out,_ Taiyang laughed to himself.

"Welcome back, Romeo," Taiyang teased upon Qrow's landing in the window.

The blond was greeted with a grunt as Qrow slid effortlessly from the window edge, transforming and landing on his feet gracefully.

The room dropped a degree or two, Taiyang noticed. He must have caught the wind on his way in.

And then he caught the look on Qrow’s face.

***

Realistically, Qrow knew it was just a matter of time.

He knew there was no outrunning it.

Ever.

He knew his semblance was more reliable than anything else on the face of the planet except death.

Even that was debatable. 

And yet he was still...shocked? Surprised? 

Disappointed.

_Yeah, that one._

Disappointed. Disappointed and pissed off. Disappointed that it kicked in. Pissed off at himself. Pissed off that all he could do was hurt those around him. Those closest to him always suffered the most.

If they were lucky, it was small shit - a drink spilling down their front when they tried opening it, tripping on mysteriously untied shoe laces...

And then there were times like this.

Calico didn't deserve it.

No one ever did.

...usually.

Qrow was a fan of using his curse as a form of karma on occasion. 

_But not this time._

"What happened?" Taiyang's smirk fell, his playful demeanor immediately shifting to concern at Qrow's dark mood.

"What do you think?" Qrow snapped, his sharp eyes shifting to glare at Taiyang: his message clear - _don't ask._

"Qrow, I - "

_Take the fucking hint, Taiyang._

"I'm going for a flight."

"You just got back! Qrow you can't keep running - "

"Try to stop me," he challenged darkly, his toxic mood permeating the room as he stepped into Taiyang's space.

"I will," Taiyang insisted, the young man rising from his seat and slapping a handcuff on Qrow's wrist.

Qrow glared from the cuff to Taiyang.

"Found that under your bed. Kinda kinky - "

"Do you really expect this to keep me here?" Qrow interrupted, but his glare was already softening, distracted at the stupidity of the move.

Qrow could easily shift and fly out the window and -

Taiyang tackled Qrow to his bed, abruptly cutting the man's focus.

"Damn it, Tai," Qrow cursed, wrestling his teammate off of him.

Recognizing a losing battle, Qrow phased into his preferred form, Taiyang immediately falling to the bed losing the support beneath him. 

The crow wriggled free from the weight of his teammate and spread his wings for flight -

And was caught, heavy palms locking each of his wings down at his sides.

Tai brought the bird beak to the blond’s face, the young man staring intensely into the bird’s beady eyes.

"Now what's wrong?" he asked.

The crow cawed and nipped at his captor's nose, Tai pulling him from reach just in the nick of time.

"Hey, hey, hey. Watch it. You ruin this beautiful mug and your sister's never going to let me go anywhere public with her."

The bird stared at him flatly as if saying, _She wouldn't anyway, nitwit._

"All right, all right...I'll put you down if you promise not to leave."

The crow made no confirmation of such commitment.

"If you promise to give me ten minutes before you take off?"

The crow rolled his eyes so dramatically, his head rotated enough to look like his neck was in danger of breaking.

"That's a yes then," Tai smiled setting the bird down and waiting for his friend to return.

"Fucking hell, you don't do that, man," Qrow shook, stretching his human arms and torso.

"It's the only way to get you to listen," Tai defended.

"It's the only way to ensure I will kick your ass tomorrow," Qrow growled.

"Yeah, yeah..." Taiyang waved noncommittally. "So what's your beef?"

"Someone I trusted just violated me... his hands were everywhere... and - "

"Qrow," Tai warned flatly, well versed in Qrow's evasion tactics.

Qrow sighed recognizing the fatherly tone his teammate had somehow developed despite his young age. 

_At least it matched the dad clothes._

He was such a motherly hen. Qrow would swear if he hadn't seen him in the shower that -

Taiyang elbowed Qrow in the ribs, corralling his attention yet again.

"Calico," he blurted out, the tactic to catch him off-guard working annoyingly well.

Qrow cursed.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"You're an idiot."

"Look in a mirror, buddy."

Qrow glared half-heartedly at his partner.

"Don't give me that look. At least we have each other. Now tell me everything that happened."

"Thank you, doctor," Qrow retorted sarcastically.

"Spill. It."

"Fuck. Fine. She..." Qrow sighed rubbing his hands over his face so harshly he left marks. "She's getting expelled."

"Fuck," Taiyang said, eyes wide.

"What the hell happened?"

Qrow shook his head signifying this was the end of his sharing.

"...is there anything we can do?"

"I can stop seeing her."

"She won't like that."

"Nope."

"You won't like that."

"Nope."

"She might try to chain you up in some dark cave somewhere. She seems like the type to have one. You'd be her love prisoner and - "

"Not helping, Tai."

"Sorry. She just seems very...I don't know. Shifty? Like you.”

"Thanks," Qrow said only half sardonically. _Shifty_ was exactly right.

"So what are you gonna do?"

"What else can I do? I have to back off."

Taiyang thought this over for a while, Qrow watching the slow gears in his friend’s head struggling to click at a faster pace.

"She's very independent. She can handle it. And so are you," he offered as optimism. 

"She's going to dump my ass after she kills me first."

"Then you won't have anything to worry about," Tai teased.

Qrow rolled his eyes, his human form mimicking his avian shape.

"Look... she may be in danger of getting expelled, but let's talk to Ozpin. I bet he can do something. Put in a good word of recommendation or something."

"He barely knows her."

_Ozpin. Perfect. Why not talk to the guy who you just pissed off by pulling an entire day of pranks?_

But maybe Tai had a point.

Talking to Ozpin always helped.

"He knows you."

"So?"

"So, he _trusts_ you, Qrow."

"I don't know why. My luck's going bite him in the ass next."

"And his ass can take it. If you think he hasn't met someone with a worse semblance than you, then you're wrong."

Qrow opened his mouth to argue, but found no words.

For once, maybe Taiyang was right. Their headmaster never once seemed concerned with the side effects of Qrow's semblance. 

Still.

_What if next time was worse?_

Qrow had already been responsible for more unintentional deaths than he could count. And -

Taiyang punched Qrow's arm, snapping Qrow back into the moment, earning a growl and pounce.

The boys wrestled for a solid fifteen minutes, Taiyang allowing Qrow to blow off much needed steam, and Qrow allowing Taiyang to think he stood a chance.

In fact, their roughhousing would have continued had it not been for the student report sent directly to Professor Agrios when they blew the wall of their dorm, expanding their room into the next. 

Professor Agrios knocked on their door, not waiting for a response before she marched into their dorm room.

Her eyes scanned the scene, her scowl growing, until she landed on the two suspects wrapped in wrecking ball position.

A wrecking ball she flattened into two human shaped pancakes by increasing the gravitational pull until neither boy could do more than blink.

For a long moment, Professor Agrios simply stood in the doorway and glared at the boys. 

"You two," she said at last. "Why is it _always_ you two?" 

The question was rhetorical; neither student had the strength to reply. 

"You can explain that - and _that_ \- " she motioned at the hole in the dorm wall " - to the headmaster. I don't want to hear it."

So saying, she lifted the pressure from them, narrowing her eyes as though daring them to protest.

Both boys coughed air back into their lungs upon release, each looking at the other for support from the wrath they had incurred. Stretching, rolling aching joints, they helped each other up.

"Bring it," Qrow said, more bark than bite remaining of the rage burning in him. 

Then again, he was always ready for a fight.

Taiyang, on the other hand, coughed spectacularly unsubtly, smacking Qrow's arm again.

"What?"

"Qrow!" Tai hissed in warning under his breath.

“Despite all appearances,” Professor Agrios said dryly, “you do not intimidate me, Mr. Branwen. Now, both of you, move along.”

Qrow shrugged, then both men followed the Professor out of the rubble to the grand clocktower.

Professor Agrios said nothing more until they reached the main elevator, stepping inside and pushing the button for access to the top floor.

A green light appeared above them.

"Why do I suspect this isn't a social visit?" came the headmaster's voice from the comm line.

"You're a master of deduction, sir," Professor Agrios replied dryly.

Ozpin chuckled, the line going dead as the elevator began to rise. The doors parted at Ozpin's office with a cheerful _ping,_ Professor Agrios motioning the boys forward without moving herself.

"They're all yours, sir," she said, disappearing behind the silent silver doors once more.

Professor Ozpin turned his eyes on the two students from above his coffee mug.

Nearly eight o’clock and the man was still drinking coffee. Qrow restrained a sigh. It had been over a year since he drugged the headmaster to get him to sleep and he still hadn’t learned his lesson.

"She seems less inclined to your company than usual," the headmaster remarked lightly. "Please, have a seat and tell me why you both found it necessary to destroy your dorm room."

"He started it," Taiyang blurted out, finger pointed at his best friend.

Qrow smirked with pride. "And would have ended it too if Ferra hadn't shown up."

"I didn't ask who started the altercation," Ozpin broke in gently. "I asked for an explanation."

Taiyang responded first, not with words, but with a concerned glance to his suddenly quiet teammate.

"Professor Ozpin, I think Qrow - "

"Shut it, Tai."

"But - "

Qrow silenced his friend with a warning glare.

The headmaster sighed. 

"I have rather a lot of work to do, so as tempting as it is to keep this manner of conversational stalemate going, I'm afraid I will insist on knowing why you two are causing destruction at my school once again. Ferra is suggesting raising your tuition to cover the costs, but I have managed to dissuade her. For now."

Taiyang inhaled deeply, considering the headmaster's heavy words for only a brief second before he scrambled so quickly to respond the sentence ran together as one long incoherent word: "Qrow'sgirlfriendisgoingtogetexpelledandheblameshimselfbutIsaidweshouldtalktoyoufirstandseeifyoucanhelpbeforehelosesit."

The blond took another deep breath, his moral consciousness settling and providing the pat on the back he felt he deserved - Qrow's hand providing the physical punch to the back.

"Ow!" Tai barked.

Qrow only offered a death glare which silenced his friend once more.

_"Qrow,"_ Ozpin said sharply, as though the rebuke made him forget to address the student formally. 

Qrow fell into a moody silence.

He paused to regard both students. "If I'm translating Mr. Xiao Long correctly, there is an issue with Miss Reed's enrollment at school, and you believe I may be able to assist in some way."

"No," Qrow said simultaneously with Taiyang's "Yes."

"Asking for help is not a weakness, Mr. Branwen," the headmaster said. "It is often wisdom. Of course, I cannot force the information from you, but I would encourage you to share if I may be of use. However..."

Ozpin's eyes drifted back to Taiyang. "Considering that this conversation may involve sensitive information concerning another student, I would politely ask that Mr. Xiao Long wait for you in what is left of your dorm room."

The blond student's eyes shifted from the headmaster, to Qrow, to the headmaster, the student eventually nodding, placing a hand on his teammate's shoulder reassuringly as he departed.

"It's my fault," Qrow blurted when the elevator doors closed. For all his silence before, now – with only Oz – he wanted to tell all, get it off his chest and wait for the soothing voice that always told him everything would work out.

"She got pinned for something stupid I did. It looked worse than it was, but when I tried explaining, it just...made things...so much worse." 

Qrow sighed, leaning his elbows on his knees and dropping his face into his hands - a protective mask as he gathered his thoughts.

He couldn't breakdown in front of Ozpin.

He wouldn't.

He was too tired from the straight flight and fight anyway.

Just.

_Fuck._

"It wasn't even her fault," he mumbled from behind his hands, which soon aggressively clawed their way up through his hair.

"Perhaps explaining it to me would be a good first step," Ozpin said gently. "I assure you it can only help the situation. I am on friendly terms with Miss Read's headmaster; I may be able to smooth the rough edges if I understand the circumstances."

Whatever Ozpin had planned, Qrow was certain it would backfire. 

Qrow was still there after all.

Qrow was willing to bet his semblance could reach over communication lines no problem.

_Fuck._

“I pulled a stupid prank in Mistral,” Qrow said miserably. “I stole some toilet seats from the girls’ restrooms. Just the usual shit, you know? Nothing serious. But…”

Ozpin waited, all patience, while Qrow weighed the consequences of telling him everything.

“Look, no one got hurt,” Qrow said. “But…one of the professors caught us. And Calico…”

He took a long breath. Was he just making it worse by telling Ozpin?

Another glance at the headmaster’s concerned expression.

“She’s a Faunus,” he blurted.

Ozpin’s only reaction was to raise his eyebrows.

“I see,” he said evenly.

“No offense,” Qrow said, “but do you? Faunus still aren’t…”

“Their enrollment at Haven Academy is prohibited by Mistrali law,” Ozpin remarked. “I am aware.”

“So she’s gonna get expelled,” Qrow barked. “Because my bad luck finally caught up with us.”

The young man ended with a deep sigh and a last run of his hands through his hair.

"See? No solution.”

"Given the seriousness of the situation, I don't blame you for your pessimism," Ozpin said, tapping his mug pensively. "The fact of the matter is, Qrow, that Miss Read is in trouble because of another one of your pranks. Your Semblance is not necessarily part of the equation; this could have gone badly simply on its own accord."

Qrow shook his head, disbelieving the headmaster's unfounded optimism. "It was my fault." 

_It always is._

"Just..." 

_Save her._

Qrow spoke in half words knowing the headmaster would fill in the blanks. 

The dark thoughts. 

The desperation. 

The headmaster sighed lightly. "I can make a few calls. Keep in mind that should I come to an agreement with her school, it will could be at your expense here."

"Whatever it takes," Qrow said with certainty, locking eyes in further deep conversation with Ozpin.

The headmaster simply nodded once, fingers prying the scroll from the glass of his desk.

"Then you're excused to go help Ferra and Mr. Xiao Long with the rubble of your dorm. I expect you'll hear from me soon."

The student nodded once, taking his leave, the news oddly raising hope despite his beliefs it would all backfire in the end.

There were two immutable forces in Qrow’s life: his Semblance, and Ozpin.

A lifetime of bad luck had instilled his Semblance as the ruling influence in his life, crushing sparks of optimism that he could ever overcome it.

But now, as he stepped out of the elevator, shooting a glance back up at the clocktower windows, glowing green, he found something else that might resurrect hope.

***

Ozpin waited until Qrow had reached the bottom floor of the Great Hall, dialing the unfamiliar number on his scroll. He placed the device on his desk, a new monitor appearing above him.

It took five rings before connecting.

“…Professor Ozpin?”

The voice was muffled, slightly hoarse, the monitor still dark.

“Good evening, Leo,” Ozpin said. “Or rather, good morning in Mistral. My apologies for the hour, but I am calling on a matter of some urgency.”

“Yes, of course.” Professor Lionheart coughed, a shuffling sound before the lights came on. The professor’s bearded face came into view, peering sleepily at Ozpin. “I…I was told that you would contact me eventually. By my predecessor.”

“So I will,” Ozpin said evenly, “but that matter is not why I have called tonight. This is concerning one of your students. Miss Calico Read.”

Leo’s face shifted to surprise. “Why should she be of concern to Beacon Academy? How did you even know about – “

“I am certain,” Ozpin broke in gently, “that you were also told that my…unofficial jurisdiction reaches beyond the walls of my academy.”

Leo swallowed nervously. “I…was told that, yes.”

“Then please do not concern yourself with how I know. I only want to know how the situation with Miss Read will be handled now that you know she is a Faunus.”

Lionheart shook his head. “Professor Ozpin, with respect, the law is very clear on the matter of Faunus enrollment.”

“I fail to see how the two are correlated,” Ozpin said.

Lionheart fell silent, eyes dropping. “Are you suggesting that I cover this up? Break the law?”

Ozpin paused, taking a sip of coffee.

“There is a proposal working its way though Mistral courts,” he said, “to overturn the law regarding Faunus enrollment at Haven.”

“Yes, but – “

“I want you to endorse it.”

Lionheart’s eyes widened. “But that – that could be professional suicide – “

“Tell me, Leo, do you wear your hair and beard like a mane out of courage?”

Lionheart went white, swallowing again.

Ozpin waited, waited for his opponent to choose his next move.

“It grows back in less than a day,” he whispered.

Ozpin hummed. “Then I suspect you and Miss Read have similar experiences with Mistrali law,” he said. “I have called merely to beg of you to consider that before making a decision regarding his enrollment at your school.”

“But – the professor who caught her – “

“I have no doubt you can devise a method of explaining the situation to your employee,” Ozpin said. “I know your position is a new one, so I would suggest placing Miss Read on academic probation, since she knowingly participated in the prank. I leave the duration to you. As for Mr. Branwen, rest assured he will be given a similar penance.”

“But – “

“And as a show of good faith, I will keep Mr. Branwen out of Haven Academy while he is a student at Beacon. Does that sound reasonable?”

“Yes, but – “

“I thank you for your cooperation in this matter,” Ozpin said, finger already hovering over the disconnect key. “I look forward to seeing Miss Read graduate from your very capable academy next year. Good morning, Leo. Please send me a confirmation of the situation’s resolution when you have taken the appropriate steps.”

“But – “

“Don’t you think,” Ozpin said, his voice softening, “that this prejudice has gone on long enough? Leo, aren’t you tired?”

The other headmaster paused, eyes dropping. 

“I’ll do it,” he whispered.

“Thank you, Leo. I knew I was correct in suggesting your name to the Council for this position.”

Lionheart’s head jerked back up, as though uncertain he had heard what Ozpin said.

Ozpin disconnected immediately, sitting back with a sigh. He placed his glasses on his desk and ran his hands over his eyes.

_An ugly incident on all sides._

Calico Read’s enrollment at Haven had little to no direct effect on Ozpin, and yet here he was, blackmailing a newly established headmaster simply to keep her in Haven.

He could justify it easily enough on principle, on the antiquated segregation laws still upheld in Mistral and Atlas, on the moral consequences of punishing a student for simply existing as she was born.

The law needed to change, and Leo’s position as headmaster of Haven had been constructed to do exactly that.

But Ozpin knew this was too soon.

He also knew that his actions had less to do with morals and more to do with Qrow Branwen.

Did he need Qrow on his side so severely that he would introduce himself to Lionheart in this manner? Would the consequences of this action fracture his future cooperation with Lionheart and Mistral – simply because Ozpin wanted to retain Qrow as a spy?

_That isn’t it._

It had nothing at all to do with Qrow’s position as Ozpin’s spy. 

It had everything to do with Qrow’s personal happiness.

Ozpin sighed and rose, refilling his coffee and pacing before the panoramic windows, suddenly restless.

Ozpin had not stopped to think about his own motivations before making that call, but he had done so, and the pieces on the board would fall where they may.

_You may have sacrificed more than you had just to see Qrow smile._

And what did that mean, exactly? Why did that seem more important than the delicate relationships Ozpin spent years cultivating?

His scroll pinged, a brief message appearing: _It’s done._

_Well,_ Ozpin thought, _it hardly mattered now._

***

Qrow didn't hear back from Ozpin for longer than he knew, returning to the remains of the STRQ dorm to face Professor Agrios and Taiyang's ineffective glares. Eventually he had to face Raven and Summer, his twin merely sighing and rolling her eyes, as if this was exactly what she expected to see coming back from dinner.

Summer huffed and puffed in disbelief, landing a solid punch to Taiyang's arm before Professor Agrios intervened, her voice rising shrilly above the maintenance crew. 

Lunch came and went, the team working through it, Summer steaming the entire time, Tai resigned, Raven as expressionless as always. Qrow worked silently, checking his scroll every chance he had.

It rang just before ten o’clock. He left the dorm through the hole in the wall, ignoring Summer's protests. 

"Yeah?"

"I have good news," came the headmaster's calm voice. "For Miss Read, that is."

Qrow's relief, while silent, was audible. 

_It worked._

Somehow it worked.

_Ozpin –_

"Thank you," he said, the words a heavy exhale.

"Don't thank me just yet," Professor Ozpin said, amused. "I haven't told you the _quid pro quo_ of the situation. Miss Read will not be expelled, but she will remain on academic probation until she graduates - a stipulation of her inviting you and being an accomplice to knowing of your prank ahead of time."

A pause, and then: "I also made a concession regarding your position at Beacon. A gesture of good faith."

"Yes," Qrow agreed blindly.

"Given your...employment with me, I did agree that I would not expel you from my school," Ozpin said. "I have no intention of breaking that contract. But I did promise to place you on a similar probation - an empty gesture, given that Miss Read's headmaster is unaware of your previous agreement. So, to be more transparent, I offered to ensure that any and all visitation between you and Miss Read will take place at Beacon."

Ozpin paused for a moment. "To put it plainly, Qrow, you're effectively banned from the Mistral campus."

Qrow's deep sigh seeped through the phone, a heavy "Okay. I can handle that. _We_ can handle that," he corrected.

"I'm certain you can," Ozpin said. "That said, Qrow, this was not easy to sweep under the rug. Should you even dare to step foot in Mistral, it had better be a minimum of fifty miles from that school. I have given my word on your actions now. For what I do, I require the cooperation of the headmasters of the other kingdoms' schools just as much as I need Huntsmen like you. I cannot risk losing either. I trust my meaning is perfectly clear."

Ozpin’s voice shifted, like there was something he wasn’t telling Qrow.

Something Qrow knew better than to ask about.

"Yes, sir."

There was another brief pause, as though Ozpin was digesting this obedient reply. 

"Thank you," he said. "As your headmaster, of course I would prefer less pranks at Beacon as well, if only for Ferra's sake, not to mention Professor Lesca’s agreement, but I will happily settle for less opportunity of causing international incidents. With that, I wish you luck in rebuilding your dorm before morning. After all, you all have class at nine o’clock.”

Qrow groaned internally. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and Qrow? You and Mr. Xiao Long can make amends over the next three weeks in which you serve detention. One hour per day should be adequate for the lesson to truly hit home, yes?"

Ozpin's soft chuckle could be heard as the line disconnected.

Qrow let out a curse that morphed into a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping with the dissolution of the weight on them. 

Calico was safe, at least for now, at least at Haven.

_Still…_

That note in Ozpin’s voice nagged at him as he returned to the dorm. 

_What had Ozpin given up for him now?_


	13. In which a school dance becomes a disaster, and for once it's not (entirely) Qrow's fault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Can you please sit the fuck down  
> Protesting in your paper crown  
> You love to feel offended  
> Fighting from computer trenches  
> You got a semi-automatic mouth  
> Go easy now  
> And you're so loud  
> And you're so loud  
> And you're so loud"
> 
> \- "Loud(y)", Lewis Del Mar

Professor Ozpin stood at his familiar place in the Beacon Academy ballroom, ten feet from the punch bowl - close enough to loiter appropriately, but not so close to deter shy students from obtaining a drink. He was in exceedingly high spirits, pleased by the end of the school year in a way he had not been in quite some time, a very heavy weight free from shoulders and mind alike after hitting _send_ on a long overdue email a few hours previously. Since then, his scroll remained quietly busy with only the usual end of term insanity.

Yes, Ozpin was quite happy to be social for once. 

Ferra Agrios joined him half an hour into the dance, poking her head at Ozpin's mug.

"I've switched from coffee to punch," he said by way of a greeting.

Ferra wrinkled her nose. "I was hoping it was whiskey or whatever you might drink off hours."

"Why, Ferra," the headmaster said, his voice all faux shock - Ferra already rolling her eyes, "are you suggesting I bring _alcohol_ to a school dance?"

"Oh hush, old man," she muttered. 

“I think I remember telling you once that I don’t drink often.”

“You did,” Ferra said. “Right before you got proper sloshed at an international dinner.”

“That was _hardly_ my fault - ”

"Come on,” Ferra interrupted. “Don't you think you need a drink after today?"

Ozpin dropped the protest, more than happy to change topics.

"I thought you were pleased to see him go," he remarked. "You asked to send the termination email yourself as a favor. Did you not enjoy that?"

"It was _delicious,"_ Ferra said, with exaggerated glee. "And I meant a drink as in celebration."

"Ah," Ozpin said, nodding sagely. "In that case, inside jacket pocket. Single malt."

Ferra shot him a suspicious look.

"Do try to be discreet about it."

"Oh heavens, you're serious," she said, eyes widening, lips forming a slow, smug smile. "I was kidding."

"Aren't you glad you did?" Ozpin said, finishing his punch and handing her the mug. He slipped a hand into his coat, pulling out a green leather-wrapped flask, tipping the contents quickly into the mug. "Thank you for your help in all this."

"Oh, really now," Ferra whined, as Ozpin raised an eyebrow at her, replacing the flask in his coat. "You had to make this sentimental."

"Expressing my thanks is sentimentality?"

"Yes!"

"Then I shall endeavor never to thank you again."

"Don't be an ass," Ferra said, drinking from his mug.

Ozpin chuckled quietly.

"Where's your hero, by the way?" she asked, surveying the ballroom. "The infamous Qrow Branwen, delinquent turned model student. I thought every snowflake in Atlas had melted into water with his behavior until the dormitory incident last week."

"He'll be here," Ozpin said. "He brought his girlfriend from Mistral."

"Girlfriend?" Ferra said, drinking again. "Is that right. I owe Peter Port some money.”

"I beg your pardon?"

"Never you mind. How are you holding up, sir?"

"Oh, I'll be fine."

"Implying you aren't now. Here, have some...punch."

Ozpin laughed again, accepting the mug. "How very kind of you to offer."

"Yeah, well. You know you're not so bad sometimes."

"Who's sentimental now?" Ozpin said.

"Oh, stuff it, old man."

Ozpin merely smiled to himself, content with passing the mug back and forth, watching the students laugh and dance and mingle with the delight of the end of the year.

***

Calico Read sauntered into the Beacon ballroom on the arm of the 'Most Improved' student in the whole of the academy. Indeed, Qrow had gone from arguably the most delinquent student on campus to one of the top performers in nearly every course in his year.

The achievement, while impressive, was almost nauseating. 

A week ago, Qrow Branwen had given his partner plenty of warning regarding his assignment - he would likely be unavailable until the annual end of semester dance; terms set forth from their latest catastrophe in Mistral.

And unavailable he was.

The only contact she received to let her know whether he was alive was an occasional text apologizing for not having more time to contact her. An apology which - despite what she told him - she appreciated. 

Qrow had much to make up to her; however, given whatever strings he pulled out of his ass to keep her enrolled in Haven, she was willing to forgive him for damn near anything. Yet she was positive she didn't want to know what it cost him in addition to never stepping foot on the campus for the next two years.

So Beacon Academy it was.

They entered the ballroom arm in arm, in fashionably coordinating outfits. 

Qrow immediately pulled her onto the dance floor, falling into a flawless waltz. 

Formal dance training was a talent not many possessed, but was something Calico had found she appreciated - Qrow utilizing his pacing and flexibility both on the dance floor and in the bedroom. 

Before she had found out why Qrow was constantly alone with the headmaster, she had her speculations about what exactly the two did together.

Flirt. 

Fuck. 

Since they did the first subconsciously, she wondered how long it would take for them to do the second.

Still. Etiquette lessons? What was this world coming to?

Calico sighed internally, the couple ending in a bow as Qrow escorted her to the drink table where the infamous headmaster stood.

"Hey, Oz," Qrow said, dropping all formalities and manners in the presence of the professor.

"Headmaster Ozpin," Calico said with a curtsy. 

"Miss Read, a pleasure to see you again," the headmaster said, bowing slightly. "You remember my deputy headmistress, Professor Ferra Agrios."

Ferra gave a careless wave of Ozpin's mug, her eyes still skimming the dance floor.

"Ferra, do be polite."

"Pleasure to see you again," she said, bowing, the action all sarcastic, walking off to prevent additional forced social niceties.

"Ferra," Ozpin said, beginning to protest her leaving with his mug, breaking off the objection with a quiet sigh, turning back to the couple. "Qrow, I see our lessons have stuck with you. I dare say your date appreciates the effort."

"I do, thank you very much," she said smiling between the two men.

"She thinks I'm sexy in my suit," Qrow winked.

Ozpin didn't even attempt to restrain the roll of his eyes. "You shouldn’t put words in your date's mouth, Qrow."

"I'll put whatever I want in my date's mouth. That's the point of them being mine for the night."

Ozpin coughed lightly.

 _There it is again. So soon?_ Calico wondered how on earth some of the most intuitive fighters she'd ever met could remain so blind.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," the headmaster said, "if only for tonight, as repayment." 

Qrow beamed back at his headmaster; Calico giggled playfully slapping her date's shoulder, "Qrow! That’s inappropriate. You really couldn't wait until we at least weren't in the presence of the headmaster?"

"Pfft. He can take it. Oz and I go way back."

Ozpin chuckled despite himself. "I suppose that's accurate," he said. "Miss Reed, you will find that Qrow is capable of good manners, but prefers to avoid them, even with me." He paused, shaking his head. "Especially with me."

"'Especially?'" Calico feigned ignorance.

Qrow shrugged. "He's fun to mess with. And he likes to be entertained in private," he added with no regard for phrasing.

 _Just fuck already, you dolt,_ she thought, glancing at her date to determine whether he was aware of his innuendos.

_Not a fucking clue. Pun intended._

_Of course,_ she groaned internally.

"For all my lessons in etiquette," Ozpin remarked, "Qrow insists on attempting on displaying the opposite. I confess that I have learned...so many things of which I did not even know I was ignorant, for better or worse."

"See? I can be a good teacher too," Qrow said.

"I've certainly learned a few things from you." Calico suggestively ran her finger down her date's arm.

 _Like personal restraint to not lock you two in a room until you figure it out. But that could take years, and who has the damn time?_

Ozpin cleared his throat with exaggerated emphasis. "You both have a remarkable talent at alienating others in conversation," he said. 

"I could say the same about the two of you," Calico replied. "Sir," she added after a beat.

Ozpin couldn't help the glance at Qrow at the remark, the eye contact reciprocated, the student wholly unconcerned while the headmaster seemed to find himself utterly surprised by the comment. 

"Ah," he said. "I apologize; I didn't think - well. _Id est quid id est,_ I suppose. I think we have been in close quarters long enough that some things have become second nature. How did you phrase it, Qrow? We go 'way back.' I didn't mean to be impolite. In fact, the only other person so impolite would be - ah, Ferra, I was just speaking about you."

"Sir," his assistant said, marching up to him and slipping an arm into his, turning him away from the couple. "We may have a problem." 

Ferra pulled Ozpin away from the eager ears of students, but Qrow pulled Calico with him, trailing the professors silently.

Professor Agrios motioned across the ballroom to where an older man had appeared. He was attractive, Calico mused, but old enough to be a professor.

“Lesca,” Qrow growled.

"Oh," Ozpin said quietly. 

"What the fu - ?" 

Ozpin turned in time to see Calico nudge Qrow hard enough to cut him off. He looked mildly annoyed to find them there, but he didn’t remark on their presence, his eyes returning to Professor Lesca.

"Is that _the_ professor?” Calico asked. She’d only caught bits of Qrow’s disciplinary actions, but she had gathered they almost exclusively had one common source: Lesca.

Qrow grunted a response, his eyes turning intense as if all of the last year’s pent up frustrations could kill the man on site. Calico followed his gaze back to the professor who had stopped to talk to a pretty blonde student. 

Pearl. Calico remembered her well, staying up late with _night activities_ during the Vytal Festival before her and Qrow became an item.

Lesca definitely chose well.

 _Or not,_ she thought as she saw Pearl's needy teammate - a name she had quickly forgotten - march over to pull the professor away from Pearl.

And then the slap - so loud it rang out over the music in the dance hall.

 _Why do women never blame the man?_ Calico thought, disappointed.

Pearl, hand covering the growing wound on her face, glared at her teammate. 

Another exchange of words and the needy one raising her hand again - Lesca grinning as he watched the young women fight over him.

The vigilante in Calico itched as she eyed Pearl - she was familiar enough with her body that she was confident she could portray the Huntress-in-training flawlessly.

Well, Qrow had promised an eventful night. 

She turned to Qrow - 

He was already halfway to Lesca, right on the headmaster's heels. 

Calico sure as hell wasn't going to miss this entertainment. She bee-lined for the spectacle.

***

Ozpin hadn't hesitated at Lesca's appearance, slipping quickly through the sea of students toward the ex-professor, already alarmed at the chaos his presence brought forward. He knew Qrow was tracing his steps and he wanted to ask for the student to remain back, to avoid further confrontation, but there wasn't a moment to lecture him, Ozpin less shocked at the violence breaking out than he would have liked.

"Ladies," the headmaster said sharply, pulling one girl from the clawed grasp of the other. "That's _quite_ enough. Back to your dormitories, if you please, and not another act of hostility between you. Professor Agrios will escort you."

Ozpin didn't need to look for Ferra, her gold hair appearing as though by magic, her radar for student misbehavior as sharp as ever, even under the influence of the headmaster's whiskey.

He watched Ferra reign the girls in and lead them away, away from the now prominent eyes of the ballroom, away from where Reed Lesca still stared smugly.

"Reed," Ozpin said, his voice low, "a word in private, if you please."

"There is no need for privacy anymore, headmaster," Lesca said, gesturing to the crowd surrounding them. 

"He's been drinking," Qrow warned Ozpin under his breath. 

That much was obvious - the slightest tilt to the back as he gestured, the heavier-than-normal eye lids, the vague astringent smell. 

Still, he seemed to speak with enough clarity. No doubt Lesca was being careful to keep his senses available, just enough to encourage him to do what he normally wouldn't dare.

“Reed – “

"As I am no longer a professor of this _fine_ academy, I am free to fraternize with whomever I wish,” Lesca interjected, motioning dramatically to the growing crowd around them. “Miss Pearl and Miss Opal were simply taking bids on whom would be first. I was about to offer them both at the same time before you so rudely interrupted.”

_For the gods’ sakes -_

“I suppose that does leave the invitation open to the single ladies currently in attendance,” Lesca continued, "although being single is not a strict requirement on my part."

Many of the young students gasped, shocked at their former professor's behavior. Many looked intrigued. A few looked desperate to cut through the crowds.

"Reed, that's more than enough. You've made your point." 

Ozpin considered pulling him aside, but the act of putting a hand - no matter how gentle - on the former professor was immediately dismissed. Ozpin could grant Lesca no fuel, no reason for appealing his termination, no wild claims that the headmaster physically strong-armed him into leaving. 

No matter how tempting the thought.

Ozpin did, however, place a hand quietly behind him, palm resting against Qrow's chest, feeling the violent eagerness of the student to intervene. He could almost hear the growl in Qrow’s throat, the grinding of teeth. 

He wanted just as much revenge as Lesca.

And _that_ was the very last thing Ozpin wanted. 

"If you won't leave quietly," the headmaster added, lowering his voice, "then I will be forced to call for security to escort you. Reed, please. You may be angry with me as much as I deserve, but do not inflict your temper on my students."

"Hah! Your students? You mean your _student,"_ Lesca seethed, motioning toward Qrow. "You may care about your students, Ozpin, but you care _too much_ for that boy. You think _I'm_ bad? Occasionally indulging in meaningless encounters with consenting adults, none of whom were even my students at the time, all of whom were well aware of my intentions? 

“But _that._ That _thing,"_ he sneered, “follows you around like a lost puppy, feeding on you like some parasite. He is _obsessed_ with you! And what do you do? Turn him away? No. You turn a blind eye. Why? Because you know deep down on some sick level you, you too feel the same way. You're the ultimate hypocrite, Ozpin. You two are stuck playing some sick, twisted, _disgusting_ game. Who will admit it first? Do you say anything at all, or just take him? Would he even bat an eye if you just fucked him on your office floor like the bitch he is?”

_”Reed.”_

“Unless you do that already? But I doubt Branwen would be so pent up if you _gave it to him good._ That must be it - you've been stringing him along for _years_ just so he would do your dirty work." 

Lesca dropped his voice, regarding Ozpin seriously. "Emotional is the worst kind of fucking, Ozpin. _That_ is what makes you a hypocrite. You and that fucking child you can't let go of."

Ozpin listened to the enraged rant, the spiral of shocking accusations and more shocking language, the eyes of nearly every student of Beacon on him, made heavier for the scene Lesca had caused. 

And yet the headmaster let him continue, let the hate spill out like blood from a wounded animal flailing before death finally overtook it. Even Ozpin had to admit that Lesca's words were unexpected and terrible, but he refused to break eye contact, refused to let the effect of the monologue register on his face.

It wasn’t that he was unfeeling. No, Ozpin was livid. He felt each new accusation like a strike, knowing the inevitability that they would all soon be rumors. Of those concerning his own private affairs, he had little concern, but Qrow –

Ozpin simply could not fathom the depth of Lesca's hatred of Qrow. 

He added a touch of pressure on Qrow's chest, feeling the tight muscles, stoppered breath, tense with the desire for a fight. 

This was not Qrow's fight, however; this altercation belonged to Ozpin. 

"Not all of us are cut from the same cloth as you, Reed,” Ozpin said. “I'm done being polite. Leave my school, or I'll have the authorities assist you in your departure."

The strike was over before anyone could blink an eye - Lesca had thrown all of his anger and aggression into a single violent punch, connecting directly with the headmaster's face.

***

The second strike, while just as swift, came from Qrow and did not stop at one. The two men locked in combat, the crowds around them scattering quickly.

Not quickly enough, Qrow thought. Someone else was too likely to get hurt if Qrow beat the shit out of Lesca properly.

And _fuck_ did he want to.

Qrow jumped, briefly landing on a pillar before repelling himself sideways landing on an open window ledge – away from the crowd. The student, sporting nothing more than a bloodied lip, beckoned the ex-professor over with a condescending wave of his hand before he dropped out of view.

He knew Lesca wouldn’t resist following.

And follow Lesca did - out the window and into the darkness.

***

Outside of the ballroom, the unmistakable sounds of a fight broke out, the heavy crash of a remote locker followed by the metallic ring of Qrow’s scythe.

Calico disappeared in the flurry of action to find a corner of solitude; her form shifted, her view dropping as her height shrunk, her hair growing long, blonde, and wild. 

_Showtime._

Stepping back onto the floor, she began ordering students to remain calm with all the authority of her new appearance, marching over to Professor Ozpin, the bloodied headmaster now surrounded by Beacon security.

She placed a hand on his shoulder to whisper in his ear, "Sir, what are your orders?"

While she had the utmost confidence in her boyfriend's fighting abilities, even she was nervous for his safety given Professor Lesca's reputation; he may have been an idiot when it came to being a professor, but he was a more than accomplished Huntsman when he worked alone.

***

Ferra’s reappearance was relieving; Ozpin turned to find her at his side, her eyes already on where the fight had disappeared.

Ozpin tested his nose gingerly; he had felt the crunch upon the impact of Lesca's fist, blood already hot on Ozpin's face. He wiped it away impatiently - and in vain, blood continuing to pour out of his broken nose.

"Subdue him," the headmaster said thickly. "By any means necessary."

He wanted to follow Lesca personally, but his priority went to the safety of his students now. 

And at the moment, Ozpin was afraid of how badly he wanted to hurt Lesca in retribution. 

"Understood," Ferra nodded, before fleeing from Ozpin's side to chase the two men out the window. 

With a restrained sigh, Ozpin turned to his security team, and the students who required his protection.

***

Blows exchanged faster than the eye could follow, Qrow’s instincts assuming control. In his peripheral, wild yellow strands caught the faint ballroom light.

_Agrios._

Ego struggled against survival, Qrow at loss whether to allow the professor to assist, or wholly demand he be allowed to finish what was owed to him.

Minutes ticked by, the slight professor doing nothing more than observe the two heated forms locked in intense battle.

_God damn it, woman, flatten him like the piece of shit he is or -_

The distraction allowed Lesca to sink his blade deep into the student’s shoulder. Qrow cursed, using his scythe to shoot for an aerial advantage. Lesca had more years as a Huntsman, but Qrow was more than confident in his experience fighting on school grounds, and blatantly refused to allow some asshole that made his school life a living hell win.

Qrow would get the upper hand eventually. He had to. 

The student tightened his grip on his sheath, his knuckles raw, and streaked with blood from close encounters moments ago. He took a deep breath, aiming his next strike at the form beneath him.

Pavement greeted him, his target stolen from his grasp by the blonde spectator. Qrow waited for his vision to return, shaken from the impact, wind knocked clear from his lungs.

Blurs defined to Ferra Agrios as she tackled Reed Lesca from behind, pummeling the man into the ground. 

As much as Qrow appreciated the sight, a heads up next time would be great, he thought.

 _Calico._ He sighed, his shaking arms taking their sweet ass time lifting him from the ground. Explained why neither of them were pancakes yet, he reasoned.

Qrow stumbled over to his girlfriend, tapping her shoulder which was still wielding a vicious wind up.

“He’s out.”

“I know,” Agrios panted, adrenaline spurring her to continue.

"Go change, I've got this," Qrow said softly. Under normal circumstances, he would embrace Calico, then continue beating their opponent before the couple shared a passionate kiss. 

But sure as fuck not when she looked like Ferra. 

Professor Agrios finally slowed, her balled fists falling to her sides. A frustrated sigh signaled the end of her burst as she rose and straightened her clothes. 

She paused to regard the balcony of observers. "Everyone inside unless you'd like to face my wrath," she ordered. 

The crowd vanished in under ten seconds. 

A smug smile appeared on Calico's altered lips. She always enjoyed being the bitch in charge. 

She gave another quick sigh, and then disappeared into the shadows to change.

Qrow’s attention returned to Lesca, the young man slapping the professor’s face making sure he was out cold, as the familiar heavy footsteps of stern-faced Beacon staff surrounded them.

***

By the time Ozpin arrived, the fight was over.

He remained back for a moment while security took created a parameter around the scene. Everything was a mess: the courtyard under the balcony, Qrow's clothing and face, Ozpin's former professor lying unconscious on the ground.

Ozpin wasn't in much better shape, his scarf and shirt sporting dark stains from a broken nose, both hands discolored from holding a saturated handkerchief, his face still streaked in red. Still, it made for an effective diversion, and he required eyes on him in this state for the strategy to work.

Security pulled Qrow away from Lesca despite the student's lack of resistance, escorting him back to Ozpin's side. The headmaster gave Qrow an appreciative look, studying his wounds. 

"You'll need to have that shoulder looked at," he said. It was an obvious statement, utterly unnecessary, and yet Ozpin was too tired to think beyond the obvious, pain radiating from his nose with his pulse.

Qrow laughed spitefully. "You'll need to have that nose looked at," he said, resuming his post behind the headmaster.

Ozpin made a noise between a laugh and a sigh. "Yes, I'm rather afraid to remove my glasses in case that's what's holding my face together. Miss Read, if you would be so good as to make certain Qrow goes to the infirmary, I would be much obliged."

"And Professor Lesca, sir?" one of the security men asked. "To the infirmary as well?"

"No," Ozpin said sharply. "He's not welcome in my school. Have a small party make the necessary arrangements for the nearest hospital off campus."

"Yes, sir."

Ozpin sighed quietly, unwilling to let anyone but Qrow and Calico hear it, looking around for his assistant, but Ferra was nowhere to be found. 

"Qrow," he said instead, "the infirmary, if you please."

As requested, Calico used the excuse to slip beneath her boyfriend's good arm and prop him upright. 

At least, Ozpin thought ruefully, one of them listened to him.

"Come with me and I'll go," Qrow countered. "Can't have the headmaster looking the way you do. Security will handle the rest."

"I'm fi - " Ozpin broke off the protest, acknowledging the rationality of Qrow's argument. 

Besides, he grudgingly admitted to himself, it was impossible to claim to be uninjured while covered in his own blood. 

"Very well," he said at length. He waited only long enough to reassure himself that his security team did in fact have the situation under control. "Lead the way."

Qrow hooked a finger on Ozpin's sleeve as he walked, the action a clear indication he doubted Ozpin’s word.

 _Damnably perceptive,_ Ozpin thought, and couldn’t decide if he found that endearing or obstinate. 

When they reached the infirmary, Miss Read left Qrow to the care of the nurses. Ozpin pretended not to hear when she whispered to Qrow, "You owe me for the early exit, but you did well with the entertainment." She kissed his cheek, bidding both men farewell as they were ushered into a private examination room.

"Upside to getting injured with the headmaster, you get your own hospital room away from everyone else," Qrow joked, when the barrage of nurses left them once more.

Ozpin offered Qrow a halfhearted smile, the joke falling flat after the barrage of unsavory accusations shouted across his ballroom. 

"I imagine this has put something of a damper on your evening with Miss Read," he said, "and for that I apologize. This was supposed to be a night to celebrate your freedom from good behavior. Well," he added, almost wistful, "in some way, that still held. You didn't need to defend my honor so...enthusiastically.”

"You weren't going to do anything ‘cause you didn't want to give him ammo. I'm a notorious delinquent. It's no surprise I jumped at the opportunity to fight a teacher,” Qrow reasoned. “Besides, I’ll make it up to Calico later. After what you did for her…she’ll forgive me. She likes a good fight as much as I do.”

"Not exactly the sort of evening I would recommend to visiting Mistral students," Ozpin remarked, "but so long as she enjoyed herself, I suppose I must call the night some manner of victory." 

He tossed his handkerchief - hopelessly stained - into the hospital trash, taking a seat to wait for the doctor. He placed careful fingertips on one side of his glasses, unable to restrain a quiet hiss of pain at the movement, abandoning the idea in favor of keeping them firmly in place. 

"I intend on pressing charges against him," Ozpin said, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, trying to ignore the discomfort of his face. "That should please you."

"I'd rather press my sword against his throat, but I'll take it." 

Qrow watched Ozpin silently prod at his nose. 

“Want help?” the student offered. “I could try to reset it for you.”

Ozpin chuckled despite his mood. “I think I had best wait for the professionals, thank you.”

The professionals appeared very quickly; it wasn’t often that the headmaster himself ended up in an exam room with injuries.

Dr. Flax raised his eyes from the digital clipboard to Ozpin’s face, eyebrows lifting.

“It’s certainly broken,” he announced. “I imagine it hurts. And yet you haven’t activated your Aura.”

"I'm fine," Ozpin said, his voice wearier than he would have liked. "See to Mr. Branwen first, if you please. His shoulder may require stitches."

"We have more than enough hands for you both, sir," Dr. Flax said. "Now, let me see - "

Without warning, the doctor stole the glasses from Ozpin's face, the headmaster letting out a quiet whine at the unexpected pain. 

Dr. Flax made a _tsk_ noise under his breath as his fingers traced the headmaster's bloodied face, Ozpin wincing at each exploratory poke and prod. "You have certainly done some damage, sir," he said.

"Rest assured that I had little option in the matter," Ozpin murmured, stealing a glance to where another doctor and nurse swarmed over Qrow. 

"Well," Dr. Flax said, "I can set it for you, but you'll be looking at two black eyes in the morning if you choose not to use your Aura.”

"As though I don't already have circles under my eyes most days," the headmaster said lightly. "How are you doing, Qrow?"

The student, engaged in a tug of war for his shirt with a cross-looking nurse, glanced up.

"I liked that shirt!" he whined, when the nurses finally succeeded in cutting the garment from his chest.

"Sit still, I'm removing your shirt from your shoulder," the cross nurse snapped.

"You already cut the damned thing off."

"From _in_ your shoulder," she specified, digging a pair of tweezers into his wound.

"Oh - ah!" Qrow hissed before falling silent, a sour face shooting almost pleading looks toward Ozpin.

"At least he'll be able to cover his injuries," Ozpin muttered, audible only to Dr. Flax. He tried to push the irritability back down, to resume his feigned lightheartedness, but the weight of the evening, of his injuries and the draining pain, of the public spectacle at his school, of the cruel accusations - all these things pressed down upon him until he simply wished to brush the doctors aside and go to bed, hoping to wake the next morning to find this all a dream.

Dr. Flax met Ozpin’s eyes, sympathy on his face, before returning to cleaning the blood from the headmaster’s face. 

“That should do it,” Dr. Flax said. “It’s not a severe break, so there isn’t much I can do beyond prescribe something for the pain. Otherwise, rest. No exercise or training that could reinjure it. That is, if you’re _sure_ you don’t want me to use my Aura – “

“No,” Ozpin said. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Dr. Flax simply nodded. “I think your student is stitched up as well.” He offered the headmaster a pat on the shoulder, and one by one, the medical staff filed out, the door closing behind them.

“All set?” Qrow asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” Ozpin said. He picked up his glasses and, considering them for a moment, placed them safely in his jacket pocket.

"I'm going to go. Check in with Calico, grab a snack," Qrow added hopping off of his bed, and wincing at the action. "I'll see you around," he said noncommittally. 

Ozpin let Qrow go without a word - without even an acknowledgment. He couldn't be sure if he wanted Qrow to stay with him - for company or merely to prevent being alone with his thoughts - or if he wanted Qrow to keep his distance, as though to disprove the accusations thrown at them by Reed Lesca. 

Not, of course, that they needed disproving. They simply _were_ untrue.

And yet it was impossible to shake them. Ozpin knew it was because of their nature, of the rawness of the evening. As a professor and headmaster, Ozpin had been accused of awful things in the past - irresponsibility, favoritism, etc - all the usual things that eventually came up when his authority was threatened by those who did not agree with his methods.

Somehow these accusations about Qrow were worse than all the others. 

He allowed Dr. Flax's lectures on treatment, if only to escape a little more painlessly, almost a joke considering how surprisingly painful a broken nose proved to be. He slipped out of the hospital to the elevator, thinking that perhaps it was best that Qrow had left; Miss Read would be better company tonight, and Qrow had certainly earned a night away from professors. 

Ozpin needed a scalding hot bath and a strong drink.

The elevator pinged at the hospital floor, the doors opening to reveal Ferra Agrios.

"Oh, hell," he said.

Ferra didn't seem fazed by his curse, holding the door open for him. Obediently, he stepped in, feeling her eyes on his face. She waited until he had given the authorization for his office, the doors sliding closed silently, before turning on him. 

"What in the _hell_ happened when I was gone? What did you do to your face?"

He shot her a sideways glance. "I looked worse during the fight," he said reasonably. "At least now I'm not covered in blood anymore."

Ferra looked pointedly at his stained clothing.

"Not _as_ covered in blood. I suppose you weren't back quite in time to see Reed hit me."

"He _hit_ you? It looks like he sucker-punched you."

"In a manner of speaking," Ozpin said. "I suspected he would try."

"You didn't dodge him? You didn't even activate your Aura!"

"No," Ozpin said. "This makes for a more convincing reason to avoid an appeal of his termination."

Ferra stared. 

"I'll be quite the sad spectacle tomorrow," the headmaster said. "Dr. Flax predicts two black eyes. How the faculty will sympathize. How quickly the council will favor my side of the story."

Ferra sighed dramatically. "You devious old man. I hope your broken nose was worth it. How did the fight end?"

"You were there," Ozpin said.

"No, I missed out on all the fun because you made me escort two bitching, lust-struck girls to their dorm. It took fifteen minutes just to get them to stop trying to kill one another."

Ozpin blinked as the elevator hit the top floor, recalling distinct memories of Ferra at his side, asking for his orders. 

He had not imagined that.

"I see," he said, although he didn't - not yet. 

But he had an idea. 

"Well," Ferra said, settling against the back of the elevator and nodding toward his office. "Go on, then. Get some rest. I won't bother you with the clean-up."

"Thank you, Ferra. You're absolutely invaluable."

"I know, I know."

Ozpin offered her a small smile, turning quickly into a slight grimace at the pain it caused. The doors closed and he was alone again with merely his thoughts. He was almost ready to push it all away, except for one minor matter he could not ignore.

He pulled his scroll from his pocket and sent Qrow a brief text.

"Stay grounded until that shoulder heals."

With that, Ozpin shut off the his scroll and turned to his apartment, looking to distract himself with wearied eagerness.


	14. In which Qrow and Ozpin address rumor repercussions together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We’ll never get it back, but we’ll try  
> Some things are best left behind  
> We’ll replicate old days, they’ll haunt us  
> Love is all that I have so  
> Let me love who I want oh  
> All the dreams that I’m chasing  
> Break my heart then replace it  
> Love is all that I have so"
> 
> \- "Blood" by ARCHIS
> 
> Updating early because we're out of town this weekend!

Qrow didn't usually disobey Ozpin. Then again, Qrow didn't usually spend half the damn year as the model student on campus. Or two weeks grounded from flight because of a busted shoulder.

Sure, he could have accepted Aura treatments from Ozpin’s doctor, but somehow he couldn’t do it. He knew Ozpin was using his own injuries as evidence to sack Lesca for good; it made Qrow want to suffer with him, even if he hated every second of it.

No longer had to be _good_ but still restricted.

The continuous stripped liberties were eating away at him, slowly killing him and driving him mad. 

And so the crow wiggled his tail feathers, happy to be in his free form for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. Hoping up on his dorm's window ledge, he gingerly tested the extension of his mostly-healed wing. 

It stung, but the pain was manageable. 

Out the window the bird plopped. 

And hit the ground in a cloud of dust.

A vicious string of cawing, as if the bird could curse, fluttered in the air as he could not. He stomped on the ground, damning it to hell, squawking at it, blaming it for all his frustrations. 

_Fuck gravity._

"I believe I told you to remain grounded until your shoulder healed."

Professor Ozpin stood over the angry bird, sipping from his mug, one eyebrow raised as though to quietly say, "I told you so." 

He looked much improved from the last time Qrow had seen him, his nose back to its original size and shape, the black and blue rings under his eyes faded the usual soft purple that meant he wasn’t sleeping well.

Not that he ever slept well, from what Qrow knew.

The angry bird squawked at the professor and pecked at his oxfords, determined to unleash his pent-up wrath.

"Oh, come now," the headmaster said. "You're going to make things worse by throwing a tantrum."

He stooped to the ground, offering an outstretched hand to the crow. 

"I can't fly, but I can at least carry you on my shoulder and allow you to feel tall."

The fuming corvid glared at the headmaster's outstretched hand, furious this was all his options for freedom had left him.

Qrow had spent the last two weeks – the few months before that – avoiding the headmaster. First, out of polite request to be a model student; second, out of some frustration the student could not entirely shake. 

The stupid crush that refused to die.

But now he didn't give two shits.

He just wanted to fly.

He just wanted to escape.

_But nooooo._

Luck, fate, or whatever the fuck it was, was a bitch.

Shifting his glare between the headmaster's hands and his face, the bird finally hopped on to the outstretched hand.

Qrow knew on some level he felt better once properly perched in his usual spot on the professor's shoulder. He could feel his spirits lift. 

But he also knew he was a spiteful bastard that didn't like the fact the headmaster improved some part of his mood. 

He didn't like that he missed him. 

He didn't like that he was trying to avoid the man and was miserable, and that some of that misery seemed to chip away now.

No matter the temporary fixes, the nagging pull of his crush always returned when he finally saw Ozpin again.

But somehow that was less of a problem when Qrow was a bird.

Because in this form, everything was allowed. In this form, Qrow could remain in Ozpin's company, nipping at silver-light strands of hair, feeling the soft pressure of Ozpin’s hands down his back. In this form, it was perfectly fine for them to visit without risking rumors. 

In this form, Qrow was free to pick on Ozpin and get away with it.

The bird tugged on Ozpin's hair, a quick chirp demanding, _"Mush, human!"_

"Ow - all right, all right, I'm going," Ozpin said, chuckling despite his rough treatment. He took another sip of coffee, strolling forward. “I don’t actually have a destination in mind. It’s just very lovely weather, and we’ve both been cooped up longer than is wise, don’t you think?”

Qrow chirped and settled on the headmaster’s shoulder, happy simply to be outside.

***

Ozpin walked in silence for a few minutes, simply pleased to have his avian companion back after such a long absence, happy that students passing him by were far more inclined to regard the bird on his shoulder than the ghost of marks of violence on his face. He preferred to be observed as an eccentric rather than the spectacle of the dance.

"I'm sure you'll be perfectly capable of flight again soon," he said at length, wishing to keep the conversation light for now. "And then you'll be welcome to slip in my open windows and bother me at all hours again."

The bird made a soft chirp - one many would mistake as noncommittal; however, the headmaster knew better recognizing the sound as a downplayed _duh._

The crow ruffled his feathers, preening himself, his soft tips brushing against Ozpin's neck and ear. 

Ozpin automatically reached up to offer the bird a soft pet down his back, fingertips running along smooth feathers, finding himself wandering to the outskirts of campus, toward the secluded old bench he often used for fresh air and solitude. 

He sat down and sighed, the exhale one of mild contentment after a long academic year, looking forward to summer when his students would return home and leave him a few weeks of proper introversion, in which the rumors and stories of him faded from student mouths. 

"Ferra says the rumors regarding...our relationship aren't as awful as I imagine them to be," Ozpin said into the silence, staring off into the distant forest. "Of course, no one would dare mention them to me, so I am required to rely on her reports. I haven't decided if she's telling me the truth of things, or if she's attempting to spare my feelings."

The corvid paused in his preening, hoping down into the headmaster's lap to face him, chirping.

“Is that agreement?” Ozpin teased, knowing by now the subtle differences in Qrow’s bird noises.

The bird nodded, then nudged his head into Ozpin's arm.

The headmaster lifted his hand at the nudge, unthinkingly reaching down to stroke the bird again, comforted by the company despite the wisdom against it.

"I understand the need for distance," Ozpin said. "I can only imagine how this incident has affected you with your classmates. Rest assured that if you would prefer to remain apart, I will cancel our standing appointments for the rest of the year with no personal offense."

Qrow bit Ozpin's hand.

Ozpin withdrew his hand with a soft hiss, looking down at the bird in surprise.

The crow stared back, ruffling his feathers.

Ozpin almost smiled. 

_So that’s how it is._

"Message received," he said. "I merely wished to extend the offer so that you would not trouble yourself on my account. It is my responsibility to place your needs above my own, after all."

The crow's feet flipped out from beneath him, causing him to flop onto the headmaster's lap where he wriggled into a makeshift nest.

One thing was clear - Qrow Branwen was not going anywhere, popular opinions be damned.

Ozpin couldn't help but chuckle, bitten hand returning to offer a reassuring pet. 

"I'm sure you're right," the headmaster said, despite the wordless conversation. "A summer away and the flighty attentions of students will find some new rumor to keep them entertained."

He sat for another quiet few minutes, content with the nesting crow in his lap and a cup of coffee to restore the energy he seemed to lack recently.

"Perhaps a game of chess this afternoon? If you're not busy." 

Ozpin thought about returning to the tower and found the idea suddenly unpleasant. 

"Actually, no,” he said. “I think I would rather leave Beacon entirely for the day. I dare say Ferra wouldn't complain hardly at all if I - what is the phrasing students use? - play hooky. Remember that little café we visited last year?”

A chirp - a question - asking if the location would be suitable for the student to tag along in another place, another form.

"Yes, precisely," Ozpin said. "But not like this. I don't want to stand out. I want to be invisible." He thought for a moment. "I don't even know if I own clothing that isn't green or a suit."

The bird rolled his head in an exaggerated eye-roll and sighed. 

Off the headmaster's lap he jumped to the ground where he gathered two leaves in his beak, then hopped his way back up the headmaster's body to cover his head with retrieved camouflage. 

Looking the headmaster over, the corvid chuckled before resuming his post in the makeshift nest.

Ozpin laughed, brushing the leaves from his hair and watching them drift back to the ground. 

"How about this: another ten minutes here, and then we don some manner of disguise and meet in town?"

The crow chirped and offered two gentle pecks on the headmaster's hand.

"Two? Two hours?"

The bird chirped again in confirmation. 

"Two it is," Ozpin remarked, settling back against the bench, stroking the bird with one hand, sipping coffee, lazily counting the minutes until he had to rouse himself again. The two said nothing in that time, content merely to be together and watch the breeze move through the trees.

Eventually the crow rose, and with a happy chirp, indicated it was time to return. Ozpin scooped him up and replaced him on his shoulder, making the walk back to the school grounds in no hurry. Near the tower, the crow alighted to the ground.

"Off you go, then," the headmaster said. "Two hours."

The bird gave the same two chirps as before, scampering off in the direction of the dormitories.

Ozpin watched the little black form disappear from sight before he entered the main hall, retrieving his scroll from his pocket.

"I’m taking the afternoon off," he wrote.

The reply came quickly.

"Very good, sir. Try to get some rest."

Ozpin didn't respond; Ferra knew something of his state of mind of late and so would not hold this against him. If anything, she might be relieved to be rid of him and his dark moods. 

But now he was actively attempting to be rid of those moods, marching into his bedroom and pulling both doors of the armoire open to inspect his options. 

There were few.

Ozpin pushed suit jacket after suit jacket forward, until he found one of a dark brown tweed he had forgotten he still owned. True, it was still a suit jacket, but it was not a color he had worn in years. This he laid on the bed, pulling open dresser draws to find a dress shirt of a non-green shade. It took four drawers and some digging before he found a royal blue shirt. For a moment he held it up to his chest in the mirror, wrinkling his nose at the color against his skin. It had been a gift, he vaguely recalled, and politeness had disallowed him from throwing it out or giving it away. 

He sighed and shrugged, changing out of his green shirt and black vest in favor of the blue, tossing the tweed over his shoulders and examining the result on his reflection. It wasn't _too_ awful, he mused, tilting his head. The light caught on his glasses and so he removed those as well, folding them neatly in his coat pocket. 

It was only after he walked past the full-length mirror that he realized his slacks were dark green and clashed in a most impressive manner, and then a new search for proper trousers began again.

At just before two hours, Professor Ozpin found himself in The Sacred Grounds on Main Street, his face glasses-free, clad in tweed and khaki and blue, feeling entirely unlike himself. He went up to the counter to order a drink while he waited for Qrow - the usual cup of medium roast drip coffee. And yet when the barista prompted him for an order, he surprised himself by asking for the specialty drink of the week.

An involuntarily need to play the part of his new persona, he thought, settling in at a table in the furthest corner, waiting for the sight of Qrow's familiar red cape.

When the now-familiar owner of the shop brought Ozpin’s coffee to his table, there was a clear expression of surprise.

“Ozpin,” Coal Cheswick said, freezing with the coffee still in hand.

Ozpin merely raised a finger to his lips. “Not today, Coal. I’m afraid I’m attempting some peace and quiet, and that only comes with the privacy of not appearing as myself.”

“Oh.” Coal cleared his throat, finally remembering to place the coffee on the table. “It’s…it’s an unusual look for you.”

“It’s quite awful, but I thank you for your courtesy.”

“It’s not,” Coal protested. “It’s not you, exactly, but…” His eyes studied Ozpin’s face, as though imagining the missing glasses.

Studying his face for a moment too long, perhaps. Ozpin dropped his eyes and coughed lightly, feeling the question that followed that stare. Too many times in the café Ozpin found those dark eyes on him, the man quickly busying himself when he was caught, blushing and escaping behind the counter.

Ozpin hadn’t faced any manner of flirting in too many years, and now, all at once, people had the misfortune to be interested. Coal was hardly to blame; he wasn’t a Huntsman and couldn’t be expected to know the dangers of being involved with one. And he had been nothing but polite – a perfect gentleman, if one could forgive the staring.

And Ozpin could. After all, Coal made an excellent cup of coffee, and even better pastries, always sneaking an extra cream puff or tarte or danish in Ozpin’s pastry box. It was a small act of flirting that Ozpin hadn’t yet brought himself to end. A cursed sweet tooth, the headmaster mused.

 _Yes,_ Ozpin thought, lifting his coffee to his lips to hide his own blush. _That was it._

“I’ll just…come by in a bit and see if you need a refill,” Coal said, his voice always with that charming little stammer, the nervousness so apparent despite his attempts to conceal it.

Ozpin, alone again, sighed quietly to himself.

Alone only for a moment.

A figure in dark blue jeans, burnt orange beanie, too-confident sunglasses, and a black sweatshirt - hood pulled up casually - stole the seat across from Ozpin. The youth seemed so glued to his scroll he may have not noticed Ozpin's presence at all. 

Ozpin raised an eyebrow at the young man, wondering if he should say anything or simply allow the man to realize he sat at an already occupied table.

The man propped his sneakers on the adjacent chair between the two men, whistling loudly as he read a news article from his scroll, "'Insane instructor attacks a student on campus.' Sounds like a real winner to me."

Qrow slipped his aviators down his nose to grin at Ozpin.

The headmaster's lips parted in surprise at Qrow's appearance, and then he shook his head in amusement. 

"One should avoid reading sensationalism," Ozpin said, having stalked every headline he could find in the past two weeks regarding the incident at his school. 

"'Student and headmaster hospitalized after professor loses his mind amid love triangle with two female students,'" Qrow continued, ignoring the headmaster's suggestion. 

"Other than our names, nothing made the headlines other than Lesca being fucking crazy. And the students..." Qrow laughed, falling back into his chair. "They all think I'm the coolest thing on campus ‘cause I took down the high and mighty Huntsman. They seem to be under the impression you have been giving me secret assassination training. I can't imagine where that rumor got started. Maybe I shouldn't have told Pearl that after all..."

"Assassination training?" Ozpin repeated. Of all the rumors he had expected to hear, this was not one of them. "If anything, one would think that my taking a blow without retribution - without defending myself - would have reinforced my status as a pacifist."

Qrow shrugged.

"Your status, sure. But a pacifist has to have some defense. They seem to think I’m your secret bodyguard - that's why I'm always with you. They are too scared of me to think anything else. Plus Calico has been visiting a lot and let me tell you - she is having a ball scaring the crap out anyone gutsy enough to bring up my sexuality being anything other than her. Between the two of us, not a single peep has been whispered."

Ozpin sighed heavily without meaning to, unprepared for how much this news reassured him.

"I am quite glad to hear it," he said. "I confess that this has all weighed upon me more than I imagined it would, on your behalf. I was more than willing to bear the marks of it myself, for my own purposes; but despite my successes in that regard, I have been rather worried about you."

"Tch. Other than going crazy cause I feel like a caged fucking animal, I'll be fine. Just pissy. But it's helped keep my reputation alive, so whatever works," Qrow said.

He spoke lightly, but Ozpin knew it was a front. 

They had both spent a hellish few weeks apart, waiting for bad luck to strike.

He let out a long breath, then smiled at Ozpin. "See? Nothing to worry about. Even when people don't see me with you, they think I have somehow mastered ninja arts of melting into shadows or some bullshit. Always there, always watching. Even if we aren't, they always assume we're together now. For your personal safety, of course."

"Of course," Ozpin said dryly. "As a professional Huntsman, I often find it difficult to protect myself."

He took a sip of his coffee, the unexpected flavor reminding him he hadn't ordered his usual. 

"I suppose it's the best outcome of the circumstances," he said at length. "The advantage to being a mysterious old hermit is that rumors can be worked back in my favor. Still, I am rather embarrassed this occurred when Miss Read was present. It's not something I would have liked a guest to see, even with...the advantages to having her present."

Qrow laughed. "Don't worry about Calico. I more than made it up to her. By now, she thinks the night couldn't have been more entertaining. You gotta remember, Oz, it takes a special kind of person to put up with me," he smirked, pushing his aviators back into place.

Ozpin shook his head again, his exasperation wholly feigned. Everything Qrow told him was good news, almost ideal if not for the unideal circumstances that caused them, and while he felt some manner of relief at it all, he couldn't entirely bring himself to relax. He tapped his coffee cup absently, trying to pinpoint the cause of his lingering anxiety or determine if he was merely becoming high-strung in his older years. 

Nevertheless, he was at least grateful for Qrow's presence, the young man's nonchalance somehow soothing. He wondered if in the moment would be made awkward if Ozpin voiced such a feeling aloud.

"Those really are terrible sunglasses," the headmaster said instead.

"Don't make fun just cause you're jealous I look damn good in them.”

Ozpin rolled his eyes as dramatically as one of his own petulant students. 

"They're not _quite_ my style, thank you very much," he said. "But I admit they do an excellent job at concealing your identity. I didn't recognize you at all when you sat down."

"Aw man, I should have milked it a little longer. Slid you some envelope with abstract instructions and walked away," the young man teased. "Or maybe pull an undercover job - crazy homeless kid. Naw, I don't look homeless. Drunken horn - " 

Qrow cut himself off abruptly. “I like the first one. Envelope. Slick. Could still be undercover with these sweet shades."

The headmaster snorted at this declaration. "Yes, well. One can't account for taste, or so the saying goes. I confess I don't rightly care for my own...new aesthetic at the moment, but one does what is necessary."

 _"De gustibus non est disputandum."_ Qrow laughed. _"Tu mihi gusibus._ You finally look as eccentric as you are."

"Do I?" Ozpin asked, chuckling. "It's certainly not...my usual sense of style, but I didn't think it was _that_ bad."

"It's not. I like your normal style. Come to think of it, I don't know what a normal headmaster is supposed to look like," he said, surveying Ozpin slowly head to toe. "Maybe this is normal? In that case, I prefer your normal. Green is very becoming on you. Like these glasses on me."

"I...thank you," Ozpin said, surprised at how flattered he found himself with the almost facetious compliment. "As for _normal_ headmasters...well. I imagine we're all eccentrics in our own way."

"Yeah, but I like hanging out with you. I don't think I could say the same about them. You're an eccentric among eccentrics. Special. My type of headmaster."

Ozpin coughed lightly, sipping at his coffee and trying not to blush. Qrow didn’t often grant compliments, and in light of the rumors and the sudden flirting he received from Coal Cheswick, he found it impossible to fight the heat on his face. 

"We're all...rather different people, yes. And I suppose that – despite my history of playing favorites – you seem to be my type of eccentric student."

"A match made in Ferra's nightmares," Qrow teased.

"She still rues the day you were admitted," Ozpin said. 

"You'd still let me in even if the whole faculty told you not to. Out of sheer spite and amusement." 

"I..." The headmaster struggled for an objection. "I have no comment on the matter."

"It's okay. I know you can't get enough of me," Qrow said confidently.

Ozpin definitely felt the blush now, choosing to ignore it by reaching for his coffee again. "I recognize a student of excellent potential," he said, "despite the sometimes awful sunglasses they hide behind."

"Do you really want me to take them off?"

_Was he doing this on purpose?_

_"Really,_ Qrow," the professor said, positively warm now, unable to counter the teasing with a clever retort. 

"That doesn't sound like a 'no,'" Qrow countered.

"Well," Ozpin said, "I suppose that despite my personal tastes, it's best to keep up the disguise. I confess I feel quite unlike myself without my glasses."

"You look very different without them...a lot younger. Maybe a few years older than me."

"Ah," the headmaster said, lowering his eyes to his coffee. "Thank you, although that's rather the reason I wear them."

"So no one mistakes you as a student. Can't say I blame you. Coulda been awkward if I didn't meet you as the headmaster early on..." Qrow trailed off, lost in thought as his eyes to locked onto the barista inside. 

_What exactly did that mean?_

Qrow nodded his head toward the counter. "I'm going to get some coffee. You want some, ba - " he cut himself off, eyes widening. With a cough, he continued. "Barista here is good."

Ozpin noted the abrupt sentence but could not pinpoint exactly what Qrow meant to say. The headmaster moved to push up his glasses - a nervous tick - only to recall he had just mentioned not wearing them. He suppressed a sigh, picking at the cardboard cozy on his cup. 

"I suppose I should keep to the one," he said, with a small smile. "Ferra has been trying to wean my habit for years now. I regret to say to no real success."

The student laughed, unable to picture his headmaster without his infamous mug full of coffee. "Water then?"

Ozpin hummed noncommittally, not willing to allow the offer to drop so easily. "I...would not say no to something...half-caf." He almost cringed at the words, and yet he couldn't bring himself to ask for more, prepared instead to fight his recent sluggishness through any energy he could muster. 

"Three-quarter, got it.” Qrow beamed then left to place the drink order before the professor could protest further.

_What had he meant to say?_

Ozpin continued to pick at the cozy, a nagging sensation in the back of his mind that something between them had changed – something beyond merely Reed Lesca’s obscene accusations. Qrow was still Qrow: brash, opinionated, often inappropriate (although now merely when others could not hear him).

And yet.

Something was different.

"So what is your cover?" Qrow asked, returning to his seat. "You still look like an academic, but that could be risky. Ex-business man and closeted baker wanting to spread the joy of his pastries? Dressed a little nicer for a casual day, so maybe you were working up the nerve to approach the bank for a loan for your grand opening?"

Ozpin laughed. "A baker, eh? Well, I confess that I have dabbled in the art a bit, but with no talent so substantial as to merit my own shop. Alas, my disguise is merely the result of living a life of predictable habits. As it turns out, my wardrobe has little to offer me in the way of clothing that is not green and academic."

"So instead of eccentric headmaster, you go for young bumbling professor. Can't say it's a far stretch, but it seems to do the trick. I doubt anyone has seen you in anything besides green in decades."

"Decades!" Ozpin exclaimed with a chuckle. "How utterly cruel to compliment my youthful appearance and then strike me down with a remark like that – even if you aren't _entirely_ wrong. And this look of yours," Ozpin added, motioning at the young man's hooded sweatshirt. "What would you call this? Careless delinquent aesthetic?"

"Don't forget cocky," he said, tapping the rim of his aviators with a smug grin. "Confidence is key when incognito."

"Ah," Ozpin said, all mock understanding. "I see. Well, confidence is not often something I find myself lacking, and yet at this moment I confess I may be lacking a little. After all, I'm not often someone else, let alone the...how did you phrase it? The 'young bumbling professor' of my earlier years."

"Instead you're the oblivious hot headmaster with an addiction to coffee and living vicariously through your favorite troublemaker." Qrow paused as the barista approached, their coffees in hand. View no longer obstructed, he turned his attention back to Ozpin, adding carelessly, "If you want inside me, all you have to do is ask."

Ozpin dropped his coffee, fire erupting on his face.

The barista stopped, her hand still on Qrow's mug as she snickered, then rushed to cover the rude gesture uselessly with her hand. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to offend. You two are just adorable. How long have you been together?”

Ozpin, wiping up the mess he had made, heard the question as though in a dream.

 _Together?_ he thought, the word making his thoughts short-circuit.

"One year," Qrow said, with a grin. “That obvious, huh?”

"We see a lot of couples come through here. The happy ones look like you two - reserved, but not wanting to be. Excited when you make eye contact and have a secret conversation. You two are going to be together a long time. I know it," she beamed. 

Ozpin stared at the two of them, aghast. From across the table, Qrow smirked and took Ozpin’s hand – still holding onto a napkin.

“Thanks,” he said. “Nice of you to say.”

"So this must be around your anniversary? Congratulations!" Leaning in, she dropped her voice so only the two men could hear. "If you want, I could swipe a pastry for you two lovebirds to share? My treat."

Ozpin listened to the conversation in front of him - _about_ him - in mute shock, certain that he must be mishearing absolutely everything - the insinuation that he and Qrow were a couple, the mock confirmation from Qrow himself, the well-meaning but ultimately embarrassing attentions of the barista, Qrow’s fingers wrapped around his hand –

"Sure," Qrow said before Ozpin could protest. 

_Lovebirds._

The café was suddenly very, very warm.

_Oblivious hot headmaster._

"But keep it down. Our families don't know yet," Qrow added with a sly wink.

"Oh yes. Chocolate croissant then. Nothing too flashy and keep the good stuff under wraps," the girl said, with a returned wink.

Ozpin sank slowly into his chair, wishing to crawl under the table itself. Qrow was only teasing, of course, reminding him of just how silly Lesca's accusations had been, laughing at the idea.  
And yet despite the joke, given for merely humor and distraction, Ozpin found reason to blush. 

“Boom,” Qrow said, releasing Ozpin’s hand at last. “Free dessert.”

Ozpin could only stare for a moment longer, attempting to rouse himself from his surprise.

 _An angle for free pastries,_ he thought. _Of course that’s all it was._

He cleared his throat and sipped his coffee, painfully aware of the soft giggles from behind the counter. 

"Is this your attempt to lighten my mood?" he murmured into his coffee.

"It was my attempt to get her to leave us alone. Hopeless romantics wouldn't want to bother a cute couple on a secret date. Anyway, they'll make sure others don't bug us too. Or did you want them hovering?"

"No," the headmaster said quickly. "Of course not." 

In the corner of his eye, he saw Coal reappear behind the counter, a murmured conversation between him and the giggling baristas. Ozpin felt the stare, casting his own eyes back down to his coffee. He could assume the topic of their chat. 

He fidgeted with his coffee a moment more, then sighed, easing the tension from his shoulders, managing a small smile at Qrow. "Thank you," he said. "For distracting her. And myself, for that matter. I think I've been alone inside my head for entirely too long."

"That's why you like living in mine so much," Qrow said. 

As if on cue, the girl reappeared with their croissant on a single plate with two forks crossed over the pastry. A small flower decorated the edge of the plate, hidden between the two forks. 

"Enjoy, you two. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Ozpin avoided making eye contact with her, the blush creeping up his neck again. He hazarded a glance toward the counter.

Empty now.

_I’m sorry, Coal, but it’s for the best._

Nevertheless, he refused to allow his darker mood to persist, picking up one of the forks. "I suppose we mustn't be rude at such a kind gesture," he said.

"Never turn down free food," Qrow said, digging in to his end. Both men picked at the pastry far longer than necessary - both men enjoying the aimless silence and solitude from prying eyes of Beacon Academy.

Once the last bite was consumed, Qrow spoke first. "I don't think we need to worry about avoiding each other," he said, his tone definitive.

“Oh?”

“Nope,” Qrow said. “Like I said, no one cares about Lesca’s insane accusations. Everyone wants to talk about the fight. You know,” he added, a mischievous light in his eyes, “people were pretty disappointed you didn’t fight back. See a little professor-on-professor action.”

Ozpin snorted into his coffee. “I’m sure.”

“I’m serious! You don’t do hands-on training – as far as everyone else knows. So they wanted to see if you could have kicked Lesca’s ass.”

Ozpin rolled his eyes. “If that’s the worst of things, then I suppose we can resume our weekly lessons.”

Qrow grinned. “Good.”

Ozpin sipped his coffee.

“I could have,” he said at length.

“What?”

Ozpin cleared his throat. “I _could_ have kicked his ass.”

Qrow’s grin grew. “I know, Oz. Maybe one day we can do a little one-on-one ourselves. Nothing held back.”

Ozpin leaned back, the smile hinted from behind his cup. “I would like that,” he said, and the two drifted into an easy silence, broken only by the hum of car engines outside and the gentle clatter of the waitresses drying plates.


	15. In which meetings open blind eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I saw the part of you  
> That only when you're older you will see too  
> You will see too  
> I held the better cards  
> But every stroke of luck has got a bleed through  
> It's got a bleed through  
> You held the balance of the time  
> That only blindly I could read you  
> But I could read you  
> It's like you told me  
> Go forward slowly  
> It's not a race to the end
> 
> Well you look like yourself  
> But you're somebody else  
> Only it ain't on the surface  
> Well you talk like yourself  
> No, I hear someone else though  
> Now you're making me nervous"
> 
> \- "You're Somebody Else" by Flora Cash

Raven Branwen stood in the deepest part of Beacon Academy’s secret underground lair – or so she was calling Professor Ozpin’s shady basement vault underneath the school grounds. She watched, arms crossed, as Ozpin spoke a few quiet words to Summer Rose before retreating back to Raven’s side, giving her a sideways glance.

“What exactly is the point of this?” Raven asked, as Summer stretched, anchoring her legs as though she was about to lift weights.

“I thought you might be interested,” Ozpin said, “in seeing Miss Rose’s powers firsthand.”

Raven looked up at her headmaster, eyes narrowing.

Nearly a year of Ozpin mentioning Summer having some sort of magical power, and Raven had yet to see it. She wasn’t even sure she believed it possible; Qrow’s claims that Summer once broke Ozpin’s ribs seemed absurd, and no evidence of that incident had ever surfaced.

“Qrow said it was dangerous,” she said, watching Summer finish stretching and offer a wave from afar.

“So it is,” Ozpin said evenly. “Exceedingly so. I gave my word that I would not attempt to coax it from Miss Rose without another present. It takes all my Aura to hold it back.”

Raven remained silent, considering this statement, an admission that Summer Rose of all people could conceivably defeat the headmaster of Beacon Academy.

_What angle is he playing?_

She couldn’t find a motivation to confessing to such a weakness.

“All right,” Raven said at last. “I’m interested.”

“Good. Miss Rose has gotten better at controlling the power, although I strongly recommend being protected regardless. My Aura should be enough to shield us unless something goes wrong.”

“Like when she broke your ribs.”

Ozpin looked surprised, an expression Raven had never seen on his face before.

“Yes,” he said. “Centuries ago, silver-eyed warriors were destined to fight Grimm, blessed with a power beyond that of us mere mortals.”

“Why not use that power for more?” Raven asked. “Why stop at defeating Grimm? What about mankind?”

Ozpin smiled a private smile. “I have never known a silver-eyed warrior to be anything other than a selfless person,” he said. “And so I have no answer to that.”

Raven frowned. Aside from the impossibility that no one with these magic powers had ever thought about taking on more than just Grimm, something else about the explanation rubbed her the wrong way.

According to Ozpin and Qrow, these silver-eyed warriors were exceptionally rare.

_So how many had Ozpin known?_

“At the ready, Miss Branwen,” Ozpin said, placing both hands on the top of his cane. He raised his voice to call to Summer. “When you are ready, Miss Rose.”

Raven put a hand on her hilt, debating which Dust seemed most useful for blocking a widespread attack. She shifted the Dust to ice, jerking her head up when she caught Ozpin shaking his head.

“Earth,” he said. “And do not hesitate to shield yourself, if necessary.”

“She can really blast through a wall of ice?” Raven grumbled, switching the Dust as asked.

“My dear,” Ozpin said serenely, “she could decimate buildings.”

Raven shot him a dubious look, drawing her blade. 

From across the vault, Summer took a deep breath, bowing her head as though in prayer. For several minutes she remained like that, until Raven’s taut muscles began to stiffen, the grip on her sword aching.

She nearly broke her form to ask Ozpin when this demonstration was supposed to start when Summer lifted her head slightly.

All at once, the dark vault alighted with a sharp silver light, radiating from Summer’s eyes to just at their feet.

Raven squinted, the glare too severe to allow more than that, her hand gripping her sword but with little idea of how to block the harshness, or even if she was in danger from it. Somewhere in front of her, a great crack echoed forth, the silver light flickering in direction but not strength.

“Summer, control it!”

Raven almost jumped at the volume of Ozpin’s voice, hazarding a glance up at where he shielded his eyes from the worst of the light, cane in hand.

Then the floor itself lurched, Raven stumbling to catch herself, eyes clenching shut when a new light emerged, green and sharp, the ground turning fluid beneath her feet, the sounds of stone splitting deafeningly around her –

And then all at once it was over.

Raven braced her legs, waiting for another upset, but it didn’t come. She opened her eyes, all caution, finding the vault as dark as it was before. But now the floor looked ripped apart, great canyons carved into it, cracks and fissures as though a giant, red hot blade had passed through it. And beside her –

Professor Ozpin knelt where he once stood, holding himself up on one knee and his cane, looking winded and spent.

And then he smiled. 

“Very good, Miss Rose!” he said, pushing himself up.

Across the vault, Summer – looking no worse for what had just happened – gave a little jump and clapped her hands.

“Do you mean it, sir?” she asked, as though she was about to cry from happiness.

“I do,” Ozpin said, brushing cement dust from his shoulders. 

“It wasn’t much,” Summer said, hurrying over to them, hopping over the larger upsets in the concrete. “But I think it feels more natural.”

_”That_ wasn’t much?” Raven asked, speaking at last. She skimmed the damage done, the concrete ripped apart, the weariness on Professor Ozpin’s face. 

_Maybe they were all right about this._

“Well, yeah,” Summer said. “It’s too much to release all at once. I don’t want the school to fall on us.” She laughed like she had told a joke instead of claiming to have the raw power of collapsing the entire academy. 

From beside her, Ozpin smiled that private smile.

Raven grit her teeth.

“Fine,” she snapped at him. “You made your point.” She sheathed her sword and turned on her heel toward the elevator, too annoyed to give Ozpin the moment, but conflicted enough to know he had earned the right to say _I told you so._

And yet he still had the nerve to call after her.

“Does this mean I have your support, Miss Branwen?”

She narrowed her eyes at him as she turned to push for the elevator. 

“Yes,” she said. “But only on my terms.”

Ozpin’s quiet chuckle echoed in the vault.

“Of course,” he said, as the doors closed on that same, knowing smile.

***

In the time that had passed since Reed Lesca lost his goddamn mind and accused the headmaster of Beacon Academy of – well, damn near everything under the sun regarding Qrow Branwen – Qrow had become an unsung hero.

Infamous too, depending on who you asked.

But a deal was a deal, and with Lesca gone ( _thank fuck_ ), Qrow was able to finally move about freely, causing whatever chaos he deemed worthy of the day. 

As long as it was on home turf (he was pretty sure he was still banned from Mistral)…and Ozpin didn’t find out anything Qrow didn’t want him to know.

_Keeps the air of excitement,_ Qrow told himself.

Next question – how much had Ozpin followed Qrow’s activities since the debacle? Qrow was pretty sure hardly at all until they went to the coffee shop; after all, Qrow was too injured to set up anything truly outstanding. He’d had to settle for things like pouring more shampoo in Taiyang’s hair when he was rinsing it after a wash in the communal showers.

Cheap trick, but it did keep Qrow entertained for twenty minutes on more than one day.

The student sighed contently, rocking back on his feet as he punched in his elevator code for instant access to the headmaster’s office.

A cane caught the door before it closed, and Ozpin himself strolled into the elevator.

Qrow beamed up at the professor with pride, knowing it wouldn’t be long for him to learn of his most recent pet projects.

"Hey Oz," he offered – a polite greeting where he knew the cameras still watched.

The headmaster offered his student a smile in return. "Good afternoon, Qrow," he said. "On your way to see me?"

"Yeah." The elevator dinged, marking the entrance of the two men into the privacy of the vast office. Qrow skipped backwards into the office facing Ozpin, all joy.

"Catch anything interesting on the monitors lately?" the student asked.

"Should I have?" the headmaster asked with a smile, the student's mood infectious. "Or should I wait for a call from Ferra?"

The young man’s grin widened. "If you haven't seen it, I don't want to spoil it," he remarked reaching his destination and flopping into the chair.

"Wouldn't you prefer to bask in telling me the details yourself?" Ozpin asked, taking his seat behind his desk. _"Cuilibet fatuo placet sua calva."_

_"Tutum silentii premium,"_ Qrow replied. "But you will be impressed," he added, with a twinkle in his crimson eyes.

"I always am," the professor said, regarding Qrow with a long stare, his head cocked as though curious. "Flattered as well. Do you always pull pranks with me in mind?"

Qrow felt a heat around his collar, causing him to break gaze first – but not after holding it two beats too long, causing his smile to falter slightly. He recovered, glancing at his bouncing feet. "Yeah, well since you specially requested my services for entertainment," he said.

Ozpin made a noncommittal noise, his eyes still not leaving Qrow's face. 

"So I did," he said. "I do wonder if you have plans to _escalate_ that entertainment. I would be curious to hear any ideas you may have to truly take advantage of my attention. After all, you have me all to yourself so frequently..."

_This has to be payback._ Payback for all his stupid little innuendos over the years, or all his pranks, or for making the whole café believe they were some happy couple. Qrow couldn't be sure anymore. Either way he would have sworn the temperature shot up ten degrees in the room.

The student cleared his throat in a poor attempt to shake his thoughts. 

Even the headmaster couldn’t be that oblivious.

"Depends on what you want to see...?" Qrow banged his head against a metaphorical wall. So much for snapping out of Ozpin's playful game. At least he knew the headmaster well enough the man would fall back behind polite defenses any minute. 

Ozpin's smile deepened. "Oh, that's a dangerous sort of question, Qrow. One may take that the wrong way." He paused for a moment. "If one wanted to, that is."

_Ozpin’s lost his goddamn mind._

Qrow glared at him, annoyed the man was toying with affections he didn't know the boy had. Affections Qrow denied, even to himself...

_Two can play that game,_ the student thought. 

"And what if I wanted to?" he pressed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The question made Ozpin raise an eyebrow. He rose from his chair, the movement deliberate, unhurried, coming around the desk to lean beside Qrow's chair. 

"Oh?" he said, his own voice dropping. "Then. _Prove._ It."

Qrow rose to the challenge, stepping in to the headmaster's personal space, how he’d wanted to for the better part of a year now. Qrow pinned the man to the desk on both sides by strong hands, lips mere inches apart. 

Here he remained, slowly drinking in the details of the headmaster’s complexion, the golden brown of his eyes, each stray strand of wild silver hair, each curve sending a twitch to Qrow’s groin.

"Is this excitement enough for you?" he growled.

Qrow's heart hadn't beat this fast since he encountered an angry Goliath on a solo mission. Feelings dramatically different from a life-threatening situation, his body responded all the same: anticipation, excitement, anxiety overrode him all at once. Qrow knew his heart was beating loud enough for the headmaster to hear, but he didn't care. The man had started this game and Qrow was going to finish it.

"Not quite," came Ozpin’s quiet reply, the confidence unshaken.

The distance between them closed in a second, Ozpin's lips hard against his student's mouth, calling Qrow's bluff directly.

The student froze in pure shock, limbs bolted in place, unable to _breathe,_ he certainly was in no state to think. Mind a hazed fog, his hand reached up of its own accord tugging at the headmaster's jacket.

Ozpin, as though feeling the soft tug of his coat, slipped arms around Qrow's waist, pulling the student against him, daring Qrow to try to escape.

How long had Qrow wanted this?

Qrow could feel his heart throbbing, threatening to break free from his rib cage. He had spent his whole life facing life-threatening situations, but this was different. He didn't know what he should do.

His body, however, was well educated.

Qrow's arms followed instruction, drawing the professor against him, returning the kiss, gently at first, unusually timid for the young man's brash nature.

The student's response, even cautious, was enough for the professor. Ozpin's hands drifted upward, fingertips following the young man's spine, encouraging Qrow further, the touches a light tease, the press of Ozpin's lips growing more forceful.

_Fuck it._

Rational thought fled, paving way for an animalistic fire ignited within Qrow, his body acting on its own accord. The student's hand reached to thrust the man against him, clawing his jacket free from eager shoulders. 

Frozen lips now responded in earnest, crushing back against the headmaster's. He tasted familiar, as though Qrow’s tongue could remember that night last year at the masquerade, forcing his way past Ozpin’s lips. With scarf and coat torn free, Qrow next attacked the headmaster's neck, biting into him while ripping free both shirts.

Qrow's skin was fire in the heat of the desperation, quelled only by the smooth cool of Ozpin's soft flesh. Desire burned on, fueling the student's mindless aggression. Lips painted red as love bites turned fierce, releasing fresh blood to paint them both.

"Oz..." Qrow groaned between hot panting breaths. Qrow wanted him, his body no longer letting him deny it, his own zipper now his painful, own worst enemy.

Ozpin cradled Qrow’s head in a soft hand, soothing the pain of repression. “Go on…” the headmaster urged.

Qrow’s breathless panting raced, his hand hovering above his zipper, crimson eyes pleading for this moment to reality, and not another torturous dream. Ozpin smiled down at Qrow, his warm hazel eyes fanning the fire burning within the man in his arms.

No, not hazel.

_Yellow._

Qrow blinked furiously.

The glint again.

_Yellow._

Everything stopped.

And all at once, the fantasy shattered.

Qrow felt the moisture on the edge of his eye trail down his cheek, Ozpin’s warm hand quickly wiping the evidence, soothing the young man once more. 

“Qrow?” he asked.

The student shook his head, stepping back.

“Qrow, what is the matter?”

“Stop.”

“I…I apologize, Qrow. It was never my intention to force my desires upon - “

“Just fucking _stop.”_

Ozpin’s hands fell to his sides with a long sigh. 

Qrow licked blood from his lip, stepping back even though his companion made no attempt to reach for him, the silence growing long, tense.

“Qrow - ”

“Get out before Ozpin returns.”

A new silence fell, Ozpin’s face blank.

“How did you figure it out?” he asked at last.

Qrow gestured dully to his left eye; Ozpin’s expression grew knowing.

“But I did well?”

_Are you fucking kidding?_

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ozpin – not Ozpin – said. “So why’d you stop?”

“Stop,” Qrow said, his voice growing hostile. “Stop fucking talking in his voice.”

“So that’s your line?”

Qrow grit his teeth, unable to look at the apparition before him.

“You must really love him.”

“Shut. _Up.”_ Qrow’s voice was little better than a growl now; if she wasn’t wearing Ozpin’s face, Qrow would have considered decking her.

Without another word, she finally changed back, Ozpin’s tall form shrinking into the familiar, slim silhouette of Calico Read.

“I don’t mind sharing,” she said with an easy shrug, as if she hadn’t just broken Qrow’s entire world. “Just let me know if you wanna keep going next time.” So saying, she slipped from Ozpin’s glass desk, smoothing her hair.

_“Out.”_

“Guess we’re done then?” she said, unconcerned.

Qrow only snorted, looking away. Somehow seeing the confirmation of her shift was worse, the final proof that all _that_ had been a lie.

“Fine,” Calico said shortly. “But if you’re dumping me for whatever the hell this is – “ she gestured vaguely around the office “ - then you better at least get some. We both deserve better than this stalemate.”

She offered half a wave as she sauntered to the elevator.

Smug that she had proven something, Qrow thought, his vision tinged with red.

He waited until the elevator was two floors down before punching the wall.

***

Professor Ozpin sighed slightly as he entered the elevator to his office, thinking about a hot cup of coffee that would likely replace lunch, despite Ferra's explicit instructions against such personal negligence. Alone, the headmaster stretched his neck, hearing the gentle _pops_ that came from sitting too still for too long.

Ozpin glanced at his watch, mentally weighing the number of tasks on his to-do list with the time, debating texting Qrow for a game of chess over lunch. 

The elevators opened with the usual cheerful ding, the professor stepping off to find his text unnecessary; Qrow was already waiting in the office. 

And yet not merely waiting. 

Ozpin paused mid-step, the student preoccupied to the point of not noticing the other man in the room, one of Qrow's hands clutching his shirt closed, the seams ripped. 

The headmaster closed his eyes briefly, imagining who may have challenged Qrow's patience or physicality; regardless, Ozpin was concerned for the absent party. 

It had been a while since Qrow had been in a proper school fight. No doubt he was no less violent.

"Qrow," he said softly. "Are you all right?" 

Crimson fury flashed up at Ozpin. Whatever the student was struggling with, it was something deep seeded, and Qrow did not appreciate his thought process being interrupted.

For a long minute the young man brazenly studied the professor - every inch, every millimeter - in so much more detail than he ever had before. Yet he only seemed to grow more agitated when he could not reach whatever conclusion he desired.

"When is your birthday?" Qrow spoke slowly, as if only barely restraining his temper.

"My..." Ozpin let his voice trail, growing more alarmed at the obvious signs of rage in his favorite student. His shirt was missing several buttons, clenched closed with white knuckles, lips red with blood. Yet the headmaster could not see any serious marks of violence on Qrow; he wondered, resigned, if he would get a call from Ferra about another student in the hospital wing. 

"Qrow, please tell me what happened."

"Your birthday! _When is it?!"_ Qrow demanded.

Ozpin's eyes widened, but he refused to react to his student's anger beyond that.

"January eighth," the headmaster said quietly. His previous question remained on his lips, but he let it stay a moment longer, waiting for Qrow to explain. 

Qrow finally dropped his vicious scrutiny. 

"Nothing you need to worry about," he said, before transforming and flying out the headmaster's clocktower window.

Ozpin blinked, stunned by the abrupt exit of his student and the lack of explanation. For Qrow to lie in wait for the headmaster, to raise his voice, to demand answers to nonsensical questions...

Ozpin was both concerned and wholly displeased. Qrow may have been known for his disrespect, but never toward Ozpin. The headmaster simply had higher standards that Qrow hadn't dared challenge since his first year. 

Ozpin watched the black speck disappear from view, reaching in his pocket for his scroll. He believed Qrow when he said whatever happened would not concern Ozpin - at least in a professional perspective. But Qrow could not keep Ozpin from worrying about it on a personal level. 

He debated over words, torn between concern and irritation.

"When you're ready to discuss this, you know where to find me."

Message sent, Ozpin sat at his desk, lunch and coffee both forgotten, waiting for the electronic ping of either scroll or elevator to alleviate his worry, afraid that – after two years – Qrow still found trouble that he could not confide to Ozpin.


	16. In which Qrow and Ozpin have a heart-to-heart, and Qrow makes some decisions regarding his final year at Beacon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Just because I love your skin  
> Doesn't mean I'll jump in  
> The water's clean and warm and green  
> I'm not allowed to swim  
> I'm scared of getting in"
> 
> \- "Deep Green", Marika Hackman
> 
>  
> 
> Happy RWBY Volume 6 Day and happy (almost) Halloween! We ask that due to the release policy that all comments be spoiler-free. :)

A two full days passed and Ozpin had no sign of the troubled crow. It wasn't until the close of the second day - when the headmaster should be preparing for bed instead of sitting at his desk, staring at his monitors - that Qrow finally gave an indication he was alive.

Alive and – 

The rest was to be determined, Ozpin supposed, looking up as the elevator pinged, watching the numbered floors as it rose.

Qrow’s surprise visit, unannounced and so late, did not surprise him. After three years, Ozpin knew the student was unpredictable, subject to the tides of the deep emotions he kept contained.

_Well._

Contained to the best of Qrow’s ability.

The headmaster still remained in the dark regarding Qrow’s latest emotional outburst, the incident that made him turn even on Ozpin.

Still.

Qrow returned. He ran from his problems – physically, by taking flight, or by drinking (Ozpin was hardly unaware of that particular vice) – but now he returned, to face Ozpin and the consequences of his actions.

_Development,_ Ozpin thought, as the elevator arrived at the top floor.

Qrow slinked into the office like one guilty. 

Which, of course, he was.

Even so, he had returned.

Ozpin's eyes peered over the rims of his glasses as Qrow sank into the chair opposite, silence lingering.

“Good evening, Qrow,” Ozpin said quietly. “I’m glad to see you.”

Qrow looked up, his expression perplexed by this greeting.

_What did he expect?_ Ozpin wondered. Anger? Disappointment? 

It was endearing somehow, this misplaced confusion, when Ozpin was simply happy to see Qrow safe.

Finally, Qrow spoke. 

"I shouldn't have yelled at you. I apologize." 

Ozpin studied him. Every fiber of the young man's body remained tense, as if he hadn't rested in the days he had been gone. Tense as if defensive.

Tense as if waiting for a fight.

Ozpin waited patiently for Qrow to continue, but the man fell back in sullen silence.

So perhaps Qrow didn’t want to discuss anything further; it was obvious he didn't even want to be here – and yet here he was, apology on his lips.

"Apology accepted," the headmaster said evenly. "Qrow, would you like a cup of tea?"

The question seemed only to cause the student to stiffen, as though ready to bolt from the window again.

"You don't have to say a thing," Ozpin offered. "I've simply missed seeing you these last two days."

The truth was that Ozpin was immensely concerned with Qrow's behavior; no news of a fight had surfaced in his absence, no unexplained explosions or over the top pranks had graced the headmaster's scroll. Qrow wouldn't yet talk about what had happened, but Ozpin was accustomed to the student's willful silences, reading the young man's face well enough without the directness of words.

Yet now the silent words came jumbled, mixed up in too many conflicting emotions to make sense to even Ozpin. The student was uncomfortable; that much was evident when he became shifty at Ozpin's words.

_Nothing a cup of tea couldn’t soothe,_ Ozpin thought, if he could coax Qrow to accept.

***

_Uncomfortable_ was just the tip of the iceberg as far as Qrow as concerned.

Two days he had spent in the solitary wild where he was most comfortable. Two days he had spent fighting off the Grimm, drawn more strongly than they had been in years. Two days the food sucked, the sleep was worse, and yet now he wanted nothing more than to return for another two-day absence.

_I've simply missed seeing you these last two days._

How could Ozpin say something like that so flippantly? 

Because he didn't have a hidden meaning behind his words and actions like Qrow. Because Ozpin hadn't been fighting his feelings deep down. Because he wasn't in _lo-_

Qrow stopped himself before he could finish the absurd sentence, his stomach turning tight again at the mere thought, looking up at the man who _simply missed seeing him_ after being yelled at, interrogated, and abandoned for two days.

_He didn’t deserve that._

He didn’t deserve to put up with Qrow. And yet he did, and _wanted_ to.

"I'm alive," was all Qrow could manage before delving back into silence.

He still couldn’t be sure he trusted his eyes – and he definitely didn’t trust his tongue.

***

Qrow's demeanor was so strange, so abnormal, so unsettling. For years, Ozpin had learned to read Qrow’s face, his body language, to hear what Qrow was saying when the student refused to speak aloud; sullen silences were not often difficult to decipher.

Not these days. Not after spending so much time together.

But now Qrow couldn't even manage to glance at the headmaster for more a moment, as though Ozpin’s very presence reminded him of something traumatic.

"So you are," Ozpin said, keeping his tone even, non-accusatory. "I'm very relieved to see you again." 

Qrow's inability to hold eye contact - the opposite of the bold student's usual social habit – was cause for Ozpin to feel some amount of unease. The headmaster hadn't seen Qrow shut down in this manner since his first year, after he had almost thrown a classmate from a rooftop.   
Whatever had happened to Qrow had shaken him deeply. 

Ozpin had two days to consider possible scenarios, but one suspicion had lingered longer than the others. 

"Did something happen with Miss Read?" he asked, as gently as he could.

Qrow froze, not blinking, not breathing, as if locked in some horrific memory. Seconds ticked languidly by, then at long last, he nodded, closing his eyes and sighing.

"We're not together anymore," he said bitterly - and if Ozpin had translated correctly - with disdain.

_Ah, so that’s what this is._

"I'm sorry to hear that," the professor said, his voice neutral. He assumed Calico had left for Mistral again, having seen no trace of her since Qrow's disappearance. 

"I understand if you don't wish to discuss it," he continued, "so perhaps some kind of distraction would be welcome?"

"What do you do when you don't know if you can trust your own instincts?" Qrow asked abruptly, finally raising his eyes.

Ozpin pressed his lips together.

"A difficult matter," he remarked. "A loss of trust - especially in oneself - can be quite traumatic. I'm afraid that I have no easy cures for it. It seems you have already done what I would recommend: time away from others, focus on oneself, quiet contemplation of what it is that has shaken your trust and what the best course of action may be. It can be a very slow process, but I would urge you not to rush it. The pain will pass - with time - and you will be stronger for it."

_"Tu ne cede malis sed contra audentior ito,"_ he added, with the hint of a smile.

_"Illa verba latina intellegit,"_ Qrow snapped.

Ozpin paused, thinking on the possible meanings of a seemingly superficial sentence.   
"Miss Read?" he asked. 

Of course Qrow meant Calico, but what Qrow meant by pointing out such information, Ozpin could only begin to surmise. Even at their first meeting in Ozpin's office, the headmaster had noticed Qrow's reluctance to offer Calico access to their word games, but he could not immediately understand the reason. 

"It bothers you, her knowing some Latin?"

The side glance the student shot the headmaster said _yes_ in volumes that words could not. There was so much beneath the surface the student was unwilling to share, a distance Ozpin felt profoundly.

"I see." The professor paused again to consider this information. "Then perhaps in the future, we can keep that particular habit to ourselves."

So Calico had done something to fracture Qrow's trust - the student's silence and withdrawal even from Ozpin was a clear consequence of some manner of betrayal. The headmaster supposed that the exact nature of the falling out was not important; it was far more important that Ozpin attempt to help Qrow pick up the pieces and slowly rebuild.

"If there is anything at all I can do to help, I hope you will not hesitate to ask me," he said.

***

Qrow looked away from Ozpin again. He spent years developing his intuition so he would never have to rely on others, so he would never have to ask for help, so he would never be vulnerable.

But now he couldn't trust his own senses.

Qrow rose, planting both hands on the headmaster's desk, leaning forward across to bore into Ozpin's eyes. Qrow stared for what could have been a solid five minutes, or perhaps it was merely thirty seconds; it seemed like an eternity. 

Qrow was searching for something, anything, to prove that the man before him was really Ozpin.

And Ozpin, clueless as to why, simply allowed him to stare.

_Patience of a fucking saint._

He cursed under his breath, shaking his head as he fell back into the chair. He couldn't wait an eternity for a yellow flash that wasn't going to happen. He had to learn to trust his instincts again. 

Eventually.

"I swore I wouldn't tell anyone her Semblance. Just know it’s dangerous. You see things...things that aren't real. It makes you act in ways you wouldn't - " Qrow cut himself off. 

He couldn't finish the statement. Was it a lie?

If Ozpin came on to him, would he react the way he did?

_Yes._

Qrow cursed aloud again, angrily running his hands over his face and through his hair.

Qrow had felt an undeniable stirring since the beginning of the year, and he had thus far exhausted all avenues he came across to knock it the fuck off.

Calico had toyed with him, but even worse, she had forced him to admit the truth to himself and this unsettled Qrow even more.

Over the last two days, Qrow had come to terms with Calico - he knew her well after all; they were two birds in the same flock. Given time, he would forgive her. She hadn't come at him out of malice, but curiosity. 

It backfired for both, but the sad truth remained: Qrow was... _emotionally attached_ to someone else.

Someone else sitting across from him right now. Someone two days ago he had wanted so desperately he almost turned their clothes into confetti.

He ran his hands through his hair again, wishing to pull it out for the smallest of distractions from his damning thoughts. He looked up at Ozpin again, seeing only concern in his brown eyes, the furrowed brow that meant he was worried. Worried about Qrow, with the strange softness that only came from Ozpin.

_This really isn’t going away, is it?_

***

Ozpin met Qrow's intense red stare evenly; even without knowing why Qrow required the eye contact, Ozpin obliged it. If Qrow would offer no details, the headmaster could at least offer his supportive silence.

_A dangerous Semblance._

A prank gone wrong, perhaps? Ozpin was more than aware that Calico was just as formidably troublesome as her former boyfriend; together, he was certain the two could cause all manner of havoc. Perhaps the havoc had turned upon them.

And still Ozpin did not ask. He let Qrow swear, the volume echoing over the quiet ticking of the office. It was growing ever later, and yet Ozpin would not hurry the young man's exit, not in such a state of distress. The professor rose, holding up a hand to signify that Qrow should remain seated, the door to his apartment sliding silently open. 

He returned after a few minutes with a mug of chamomile tea, placing this before his afflicted student. He nearly put a hand on Qrow's shoulder for reassurance, but the young man almost flinched at the headmaster's proximity, and so Ozpin withdrew without, retreating back to the safe distance of his own chair. 

"It will help you sleep," he said, motioning toward the mug, "which I suspect you require."

***

A long sigh admitted what the dark circles under the student's eyes had already conveyed. Qrow indeed needed sleep, but it was very hard to do so when your brain is a damn murder fighting for a feast.

He took the cup and took a cautious sip.

"What distraction did you have in mind?" Qrow asked. That much, he acknowledged, might help.

Ozpin offered half a smile. "Chess? A game of cards? A topic of conversation that has been on your mind? I am yours tonight, Qrow."

The student visibly swallowed his nerves, but the blush crept up.

_I am yours tonight, Qrow._

The young man repeated the phrase over and over again in his head at odds with himself at how much he wanted to hear that statement, but hated Ozpin for saying it. He adjusted himself, slouching to hide his body's unfortunate natural reaction.

"At my - ah..." He shook his head, clearing his throat. 

He had to stop that though process before his attraction became something he couldn't conceal - it was already vaguely outlined in his slacks.

"Chess. Chess is good. Chess is safe," he blurted out.

"Very good," the headmaster said. "Just a moment while I get the board."

***

Ozpin took his time in his apartment this time, allowing Qrow a minute or two of isolation to steady his obvious nerves. The professor was more perplexed than ever regarding the specific issue plaguing the young man, but - he reminded himself yet again - if Qrow chose not to confide in Ozpin, then the headmaster would respect the distance. His job now was to see that Qrow relaxed, to see if he couldn't try for a proper night's sleep.

All else would follow.

The chess board under one arm, a cup of coffee in the other hand, Ozpin emerged into his office once more. He unfolded the board and placed the white queen in front of Qrow.  
"Why don't we make things a bit more interesting," the professor said. "I'll play black this time."

***

Qrow hesitated staring at the piece, his mind so wrapped up in potential trickery he was still on edge.

Was there a significance to this piece Ozpin was trying to convey?

The white queen - the most powerful piece on the board able to move to almost any square at any given moment. Able to capture opponents with ease. 

_White...Ozpin's color..._

Qrow had always watched her the most. And yet the man gave the piece to Qrow; he was shifting the power to the student. 

A move of pity or a move of praise?

_Fuck sentimentality and fuck overanalyzing,_ Qrow thought, brow furrowed, as he set up the board.

"Just be sure you can keep up, old man," he taunted half-heartedly, his mind still busy arguing with itself.

"Do try to go easy on me," Ozpin said, motioning toward the complete board, an invitation for Qrow to make the first move.

The moment Ozpin's words left his mouth, Qrow knocked over a piece he had his fingertips on. Cursing, he picked it up, glaring at the man.

"I'm going to take you how I want to," he muttered under his breath. 

_Fuck. Just shut the fuck up, Qrow._

What was he thinking? 

He wasn't – not with the right head, in any case. But wasn't the point of this exercise to get him to stop thinking?

_Damn it._

***

Ozpin glanced up at the student's muttering, but only for a moment before settling his attention back on his own pieces, the black so unfamiliar after years of playing Qrow as white. Nevertheless, change could be a good thing, a new perspective.

Qrow's opening move already suggested an aggressive style - not that Qrow was inclined to be anything other than aggressive. Ozpin moved a pawn forward, building a defense against the freed white queen in his mind.

"Recklessness may be an attractive method," he remarked, "but I wonder if I may still be able to evade from this side of the board." So saying, he released his pawn, waiting for the forward march of Qrow's strategy.

"You like reckless behavior as long as no one is hurt," Qrow retorted. "But this might hurt a little..."

Moving his queen into play, Qrow held her back to advance with his other pieces, securing their positions with the powerful piece.

Ozpin's lips twitched, appreciating the young man's focus back on the game, the gentle verbal teasing that heralded his usual overconfidence. At last, Qrow’s rebellious nature had returned.

"A little pain makes the victory more satisfying," the professor remarked, studying the options afforded to him on the board. "You know how I much I loathe to be bored, after all..."

***

The headmaster's words sent Qrow's graveyard tumbling to the ground, the young man glaring. He knew there was no way Ozpin knew Calico had taunted Qrow of _entertainment_ days before.

_Coming on to Qrow...touching Qrow...as Ozpin..._

Qrow's body twitched with remembrance; he suppressed a shudder.

"Then I'll be sure to entertain you and cause more pain," Qrow bit out, more ruthlessly than he intended. He sighed, regretting his bitter misplacement of aggression while he collected his discarded graveyard. 

Still distracted. 

He knew he was going to lose in five moves regardless of his choices, but he wasn't going to simply hand the win to Ozpin on a silver platter. Opting for a kamikaze strike, he moved his most powerful pieces forward to capture the enemy forces.

***

Ozpin examined Qrow over the rim of his glasses, raising an eyebrow at the student's language. _Still angry then,_ the headmaster thought, amused. At least now Qrow directed that anger toward inanimate objects. His moves were rash, fueled by his half-controlled temper, the white queen taking no prisoners. He would lose, Ozpin decided, running through a series of moves in his head, but he would take nearly everything the headmaster had.

Hardly a victory for Ozpin, scarcely a loss for Qrow. 

The headmaster pushed forward; there was no saving his last bishop or the rook that sought to shield his king. Despite Qrow's red-tinted style, despite his seemingly thoughtless aggression, he had nearly been victorious. Ozpin watched his queen fall with mixed emotions, the sacrifice unplanned but necessary, the sparse black pieces dotting the board like accidental ink spots.   
At last, the careful final move, the black knight slipping into place. 

"Checkmate," Ozpin said quietly.

"The irony of the dark horse isn't completely lost. Or were you going for the knight in shining armor?" Qrow mused. 

Ozpin merely offered a silent smile, letting Qrow make his own deductions.

"Again," Qrow said, resetting the board.

The headmaster glanced up at Qrow's dark tone. He stretched his neck, hearing the soft pop of his back. Draining the rest of his coffee, he rose with a short sigh. 

"Set it up," he said, disappearing into his apartment once more.

Qrow finished as Ozpin returned, placing the whiskey decanter and glasses on the desk.

"Given the hour," he said, "I think I could do with something a bit stronger." It was true enough, the caffeine in his system struggling to keep his mind focused on the game. More importantly, Ozpin wanted to see the aggression in Qrow fade, if only a little, and the tea had not appeared to do much in that regard.

***

Qrow didn't move his head, but his eyes traced the decanter’s silhouette. "I thought that was reserved for special occasions?"

The student swallowed, his body craving the smooth liquid he knew rested in the decanter. He hadn't had alcohol since the breakup, but now his joints ached from sleepless nights atop overexertion in the wild; his mind ached from fighting itself.

He needed a drink. A big one.

Ozpin gave a careless shrug. "Somehow I think you could use it," he said, pouring a generous amount in a glass and pushing it gently toward Qrow. "Besides, it's a lovely evening and you're here. I think that's special enough."

Preoccupied with the glass cupped in his hands, the student did not fully process Ozpin's words, or the flush that crept over the young man in response.

_You’re here and that’s special enough._

Did Oz ever think about how he sounded? Comforting and flirty and innocent all at once.

Qrow slumped back, raising the glass to his lips.

"Thank you," he said, the edge in his voice ebbing.

Qrow took his time, drinking a full third of his whiskey before he made his first move, this time releasing his rook first. As the alcohol sunk in, Qrow stretched, feeling the pops and creaks of his joints groan from being too taught for too many days. "You were right. I did need this."

Ozpin chuckled, moving a pawn up two spaces. 

"I may not be a medical doctor," he said, "but I know this to be a tried and true remedy from personal experience."

***

Ozpin watched Qrow study the board over his own whiskey, the welcome warmth pooling in his stomach. Qrow was finally beginning to relax; Ozpin was grateful at least for that, still reaching for some other way to help. It was a lesson Ozpin never truly learned - that often help was nothing more than a quiet game of chess and a glass of good whiskey. The headmaster knew he could not cure all his student's ills, but he often tried to regardless.

"I know this will sound like something all old men tell the youth," he said, "but time does soothe wounds. Perhaps not entirely, perhaps not quickly, but with time, this won't sting quite so much."

Qrow took a large gulp of whiskey, glancing at Ozpin.

"I know I'll forgive her. I strung her along too, so I guess it has to go both ways,” Qrow said, meeting Ozpin’s eyes. “I just...wasn't ready to admit something, but it's undeniable now. I can't run from it anymore.”

There was meaning in Qrow's stare; Ozpin could usually read the wordless glances from his favorite student without effort, but this was something new, something he didn't recognize. He searched Qrow's eyes for a moment longer, trying to will the message from red irises, but Ozpin was only left with a vague confusion, shifting in his seat for a reason he could not explain.   
He dropped his eyes, sipping at his whiskey in place of immediate words. 

"The tragedy we all face in matters of the heart is that despite our best intentions, sometimes these things don't work out as planned," Ozpin said, answering Qrow's verbal words instead of the puzzling stare. "With time, I hope you think of Miss Read in a happier light, and that her presence in your life allowed some unique growth of character."

"'Unique growth,'" Qrow laughed. "That’s one way of putting it.”

“How would you describe it then?”

"It felt more like a slap in the face forcing me to acknowledge my inner desires... demons... whatever," Qrow said, with a wave of his hand and sip of his drink.

Ozpin counted off possible moves on the board, the analysis distracted by the weight of Qrow's words. 

"They say that the path to self-realization is a painful one," the headmaster said, "because we are liable to lie to ourselves."

He recognized the attack pattern of the white side of the board, changing his usual cautious tactics to push his queen to block the forward march. 

Qrow set a pawn trap for the aggressive move - Ozpin was pinned from further advancement without sacrifice - Qrow's more powerful pieces still lurking behind the row.

"Hey, I was good at lying to myself. I'd been doing it year," Qrow remarked, sipping his drink. "Unfortunately, that's not an option anymore, so it's on to Plan B...”

The headmaster paused, his whiskey glass halfway to his lips, watching Qrow slip the black queen from the board. He leaned forward an inch, his eyes darting over the board as though to see how he could have missed such an obvious trap. 

_Plan B, indeed,_ he thought. He took another sip of whiskey, already feeling rattled by the sudden sophistication of Qrow's tactics, his next move more cautious, handicapped by the loss of his queen.

Sensing the caution, Qrow broke formation, advancing with his bishop to snipe a precious knight from behind his safety wall.

"What dramatic self-realization did you come to on a bad breakup?" Qrow asked, both men loose with the intoxication of empty glasses. Qrow held his glass out, hoping for a splash more.

Ozpin raised his eyes from the board, the game momentarily forgotten. It was a question he had not expected.

It was a question he did not want to answer.

He cleared his throat, his glass somehow empty, using the action of refilling Qrow’s proffered glass to buy a moment to think.

***

"Have you even had a bad breakup?" Qrow continued. "Have you even had a breakup at all?"

Qrow stared through the board, trying to picture Ozpin with anyone, but completely failing. He had meant the comment as a joke, but honestly Qrow couldn't see him with anyone.

Anyone except himself.

"Tch." 

The sound came involuntarily, displeased with his own thought process. The fact was, Qrow didn't _want_ to picture Ozpin with anyone else.

_Damn it._

***

The headmaster took a long sip, pressing his lips together.

"It wasn't exactly...a break-up," he said at last. "I can't definitively claim I had romantic feelings toward her. Although," he added, his tone growing heavy, "I suspect her feelings toward me were..."

He tried to focus on the board, old memories swimming in whiskey. 

"We were very close, in any case," he said, choosing a rook, his fingers lingering over the piece. "We were young, naive, all the things that make the world so promising." He couldn't help the soft snort at the words. "All the things that makes the world so much more disappointing when it doesn't meet one's expectations."

He released the rook, committing to the move without thinking. "We had a fundamental difference of opinions regarding the world, when it inevitably disappointed us. I chose forgiveness; she chose retribution. If there was any chance of her redemption, I killed it when I left her."

He glanced at Qrow, suddenly so afraid he may choose the same path. "I learned that sometimes we cannot save those we love. Sometimes we have to choose ourselves above them, and try not to give into the guilt when we watch them drown themselves in hate."

***

Qrow stared at the headmaster in disbelief.

_Ozpin? Ozpin left someone. Ozpin crushed someone..._

And yet, Qrow felt proud of the man. He was not the complete pushover he often played - of course the lesson was taught whenever Qrow stepped too far out of line. But Ozpin's words now reinforced that the man was, at least on some level, self-aware.

Able to care for himself.

Able to make his own decisions.

_Able to fall in - care for someone a lot._

"I guess that means coffee is the true love of your life you can't escape," the student said with a smirk.

No, this was good news: Ozpin wasn’t the completely clueless prude he played; he’d had relationships – and after the masquerade last year, Qrow remembered with whiskey-tinted smugness, Ozpin already had physical chemistry with Qrow.

And that was something Qrow fully intended on exploring further.

***

Ozpin cleared his throat and offered the student half a smile, glad that the conversation dropped there, without delving into the memories he told himself he had long forgotten.  
"Coffee and I have an agreement," he said. "It keeps me alive, and I suffer mild heartburn in payment. Compromise in all things, especially love."

He pushed the decanter toward Qrow, turning his attention back to the game. "Help yourself. I have something of a reserve these days." 

Somehow, in his distracted state, Qrow had maneuvered across the board. Ozpin shook his head, willing his mind to work against mild intoxication and dark nostalgia. He was four, perhaps five moves away from checkmate. He let out a small breath of surprise and amusement. Qrow was learning not merely the intricacies of the game itself, but of Ozpin's habits. It meant more losses for the headmaster, and yet he did not mind the idea of it, the promise of challenge over stagnation. 

"I'm not exactly the compromising type,” Qrow remarked. “So what should a guy like me compromise for love, Professor?" 

Qrow’s smile meant he too knew of Ozpin's inevitable defeat, whether reading the board or the headmaster himself.

Ozpin snorted into his glass, examining his options on the board to make Qrow's victory a little less easy. 

"Find someone who finds your misbehavior charming rather than obnoxious," Ozpin said. "Forgive me if I overstep the boundaries of my professional advice, but I would recommend one who is inclined to challenge you when you deserve it, someone who will reign in your usual – forgive me – your usual bullshit when you step out of line."

He made a move at last, sacrificing a knight to allow his king another round of survival. 

Qrow laughed – always delighting in the rare instances when he drew a curse from the headmaster’s lips – and followed suit, taking the knight in place of check.

"Not many challenge my bullshit. Not many challenge me period." Qrow palmed a graveyard piece, working it about his hands in thought. "How do you tell if someone finds you charming?"

"I prefer to use Ferra as an agent of contrast," Ozpin said, resigning his king to one final move, a plaintive refusal to yield quietly. "If one regards me in a manner wholly opposite of Ferra, then I may safely assume they find me minimally charming."

Qrow laughed again. "So Ferra calls your bullshit, but doesn't find you charming. That sucks."

“It is my greatest loss in this life.”

Qrow paused, pretending to survey his option. "Do you find me charming?" He moved his final piece into place. "Checkmate," he announced, locking eyes with the professor.

_That look again._

Ozpin tipped the black king with a chuckle. "Oh, I don't think I ought to encourage you in one way or another."

"'Qrow, I don't want to work. Qrow, entertain me. Qrow, do something I know I shouldn't approve of, but I find amusing and let you get away with,'" Qrow mocked, grinning. "You would never encourage me, _Professor."_

Ozpin gave a light, false cough, bringing his glass to his lips to hide the smile he was unable to restrain. 

"I'm sure I haven't the slightest idea what you mean," he said. "I have done nothing over the years but teach you courtesy." He paused. "Or at least how to get away with things...politely."

Qrow laughed. "The second one more than the first one. I don't think anyone would ever accuse me of being courteous. Crafty, cunning, and capable yes."

"At least you know how to say 'please' and 'thank you', and you know how to tie a tie and dance a waltz. You're very nearly civilized thanks to my efforts," Ozpin said. "Even Ferra would have to agree to that much, despite her accusations that I'm blind to your misdeeds."

A bit of bragging, perhaps, but one Ozpin felt he could indulge after – how much whiskey?

***

Qrow, now halfway through his third glass, felt the room swim in a pleasant sway.

"That's a lot of 'and's', professor. If you're not careful it'll sound like you're defending the habits of a delinquent and blowin' your own horn while you're at it," he teased.

From across the desk, Ozpin snorted, sarcasm beginning to bleed through as the headmaster grew tipsy.

"I do wanna say thanks for the training. You've given me a lot of your time – time no one else would have even thought for a second to spend on some asshole student like me. How I used to be. You sunk the time in. I don't think I'd still be here if you didn't. You're not half bad... in fact, I think I lo - _hic_ \- like you. So... than – _hic_ \- s."

The student frowned, displeased at his own loose words - for once incredibly thankful for drunken hiccups - very obviously thinking _Now change the subject before I get too sentimental._

"Why, Qrow," Ozpin said, his tone teasing. "It almost sounds like you're admitting that we're friends." 

Qrow scoffed. "We're more than that and you know it," he blurted.

The headmaster gave a brief shrug. "A fair point," he remarked. "I suppose I have to agree. My time is my most valuable gift, and I have had no qualms giving so much of it to you. At first you required it; now I would go so far as to say you appreciate it. And that in turn is a pleasant gift to myself."

He swirled the whiskey in his glass. "You said that no one else would have thought for a second to spend time on you. I never thought for a second to turn you away."

The student made a face - his stomach attempting to knot but ultimately giving up with the comfort of liquor.

"Sentimental old man," he growled out in effort to end the topic before another unwanted confession escaped his lips. "I want you..."

_Like that one. Fuck._

The pause in the student's sentence made Ozpin lift his eyes.

Qrow quickly downed the rest of his drink, setting the empty glass on the table between them. "...to change the subject."

"That is _good_ whiskey, if you would please not shoot it in such a reckless manner. Although I do take responsibility for it, as I'm only 'sentimental' because I know how much you dislike it."

He finished his own glass, placing it back on the desk and folding his hands. "But if you insist on a new subject, I am happy to oblige."

"What drew you to me?" Qrow blurted.

_Fuck. No more choosing anymore topics under the influence._

"Ah," the headmaster said, the syllable thoughtful. "An excellent question, and perhaps one I can only half answer."

He paused to refill both empty glasses. 

"My instinct is to say your interesting past, but that's not the whole truth. There was something about you, Qrow, that asked for my attention. Yes, you had a history of misbehavior. Yes, you were shockingly disrespectful. But I've seen these things before for what they are: cries for help. You accepted your past but did not want it to be your future. That is a powerful way to earn my attention."

Ozpin paused again. "I knew I was right immediately, but perhaps most of all when I met with your sister. Unlike you, she obeyed every rule Beacon has. She never lifted her voice, or a finger, or did a thing that was not acceptable behavior. She refused my offer of assistance at every turn - politely, but coldly. I am afraid that while you wish to better your future, Raven may prefer to remain firmly in her past."

Qrow frowned. This was, perhaps, the topic safest for his mind to be wrapped around, but that doesn't mean he wanted to think about _crying for help_ or his sister. "You make me sound so desperate."

And he was. On some level. 

So much for the safe topic.

Qrow sighed heavily. "I didn't ask for attention, but it was probably what I needed," he admitted. "I don't want to go back to...I don't want to end up in square one. Otherwise there was no point to leaving in the first place.”

"You _were_ desperate," Ozpin remarked. "Not for my attention, per se, but for someone to tell you what you already knew: that you had options. You had a decision that was yours alone, and that no one had the right to make it for you."

Ozpin eyed the level of whiskey in his glass and Qrow smiled, knowing the headmaster was debating the wisdom of drinking more.

"That was what drew me to you. That strength of character. That spark of individuality that you wanted to fan into a proper fire. I have helped many students who came to my school with past troubles, but you..."

The headmaster glanced at the tipsy student across from him. 

"Would you hold it against my professionalism if I admit you've become my favorite?"

"Heh. Nope," Qrow grinned from a now upside-down perspective, his feet draped lazily against the chair back. "You've kinda become my favorite headmaster. Wait - professor? Yes, professor. I have more than one of those," he said, struggling to keep his thoughts straight. "Hell. You're probably my favorite Huntsman. Maybe even person.”

***

Ozpin blinked, his whiskey at his lips. The offer of sentimentality, from Qrow of all people, sent a tingle of pleasure through the headmaster's mind. It was not often he received thanks from his more troubled students, but he acknowledged the thankless parts of his profession with grace.

"Thank you, Qrow," he said quietly. "That's an honor I am more than happy to accept."

The young man shrugged remarking, "It's the truth. So I guess it works that we’re each other's favorites."

The headmaster chuckled into his whiskey, placing the empty glass on the desk and enjoying the feel of it warming his throat. 

"Well," he said with a shrug. "I suppose there are worse things than being claimed by you."

The student burst into a fit of coughing - choking on nothing immediately evident. "Ack," he rolled out of the chair toppling to the floor. "Damnit!" 

Ozpin watched the young man tumble from his chair, rising to see if Qrow required assistance, but the student rose without a scratch, muttering under his breath. 

Qrow was red enough to match his cape, but it could have been the coughing fit. "Oh, I'll claim you alright," his growl barely audible. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Never mind.” Grabbing his cape and tailcoat, Qrow resumed his seat - this time upright - opposite the headmaster. "Does that mean you’ve claimed me?" he challenged, flush still tinting his cheeks.

The headmaster restrained his laughter only by pressing his lips together until it hurt.   
"I suppose it does," he said, the last syllable a snort he could not conceal. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," the student grumbled, clearly wishing nothing more than to pretend it never happened. "So what do we do now that we own each other?"

"We protect one another," the headmaster said. "I protect your impressive but still ultimately-against-the-rules behaviors; and you, my boredom and stubbornness when it comes to remembering to take proper breaks from work. It's a lovely symbiotic sort of relationship, you see. _Quid pro quo."_

He paused, a slow smile forming. 

_"Quid pro Qrow,"_ he corrected, laughing at his own pun.

Qrow choked on his whiskey. "That...that was so bad. Ozpin, you need more hobbies." 

It took quite some time before either man could let the laughter die down enough to speak, Qrow winning that race. 

"I'll have to teach you some tricks so you can earn your _Qrow,_ Professor. Especially if you are to be my owner. _Corvus oculum corvi non eruit._ You wouldn't want my mouth doing things to you it shouldn't."

The blush came without warning, Ozpin's mildly intoxicated mind wandering into unexpected territory. He coughed lightly, shaking his thoughts back on track. 

"I may not have the same innate talent of rule-breaking, Mr. Branwen," he said, the formal name exaggerated, "but I have my ways of bending them to my advantage so that no one notices. I know what they say about old dogs and new tricks, but I'd like to think I'm not yet classified in that category."

"You aren't a dog...you're a fox." The student's words came slightly slurred now, the last of his whiskey tipped down his throat. "The fox and the crow. Heh. Sounds like an old story."

"Not one that I am familiar with," Ozpin mused, "but perhaps it will be ours to write ourselves. That makes things more interesting, after all, not knowing one's own fate. That will be ours to decide." 

A beat, a thought, and the headmaster smiled again. 

"Did you not call me a fox once before?" he asked. "Perhaps indirectly, on a note meant to be anonymous?"

Blush crept up to Qrow's cheeks.

_Charming,_ Ozpin thought, watching the red spread softly across Qrow’s face. Qrow was often so shameless, the sight of his mild embarrassment was indefinitely attractive.

_Appealing._

Not attractive.

Attractive meant –

Something else.

The student cleared his throat, bringing Ozpin’s attention back to the moment.

"I told you you were a fox. Your hair is silver. You're a silver fox," Qrow reasoned out.

Ozpin chuckled.

"It was a cute prank," he admitted. "I confess when Ferra explained what it meant, she laughed at me for blushing. So if your goal was to make me slightly embarrassed, well done."

"Thank you," Qrow said, the polite gratitude, for once, untinged by sarcasm or a smirk. "What would you put on my back.”

“Assuming I would stoop to childish pranks?”

“Like you wouldn’t.”

Ozpin bit back a smile, thinking for a moment.

"Nothing related to birds - too on the nose. I think I would keep it uncomplicated and simply call you 'trouble.'"

"'Trouble,'" the student repeated with a smirk, "I like that."

"I live to please," the headmaster said, stifling a yawn. 

"That doesn't sound bad from your owner's perspective," Qrow replied, Ozpin’s yawn contagious.

"I suppose not," Ozpin said, rubbing weary eyes. "On that note, Qrow, I think it's time you consider bed. I presume I have helped in lifting your mood?"

"You've helped lift something," Qrow said, with a tipsy giggle. "Kicking me out already?" he asked with another yawn.

"On the contrary," the headmaster said, "I'm offering you myself as an escort back to your dorm. I believe you may be more than a little intoxicated, Qrow, and I am directly responsible for that. It would be remiss of me not to see you back safely."

“Directly responsible for intoxicating me...offering yourself to me...” Qrow muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing. Then I accept." Qrow rose from the chair, stumbling. "Glad you're finally taking responsibility for what you do to me."

"No one forced you to accept the whiskey," Ozpin chuckled, offering Qrow a hand. He pulled the unsteady student to his feet, Qrow collapsing against the headmaster in such a graceless way that caused both men to laugh.

"I wasn't talking about the whiskey," Qrow said under his breath.

“You have a lot to say when you think I can’t hear you,” Ozpin mused. “Would you like to share?”

Qrow gave an artificial cough. “No, off we go,” he said, pulling at Ozpin’s arm and nearly tripping over his own feet.

"Fortunately for you, I have a cane for just these kinds of situations," Ozpin said, as they stumbled toward the elevator. He held onto Qrow as the elevator descended, lurching gently at the ground floor. "Now, where exactly is your dorm?"

"You don't know already? I thought you knew everything? Then again, I'm probably the only student that has been in your bedroom, even if it was only to put you to sleep..."

"My bedroom...?" The headmaster frowned as they exited the elevator. No one had entered his bedroom other than himself in more years than he could recall. The memory - hazy from intoxication and the evening in question - surfaced slowly. 

"The sleeping pills," he said, with a sound between a snort and a laugh. "So you dared to follow me, did you? I am constantly impressed with your boldness."

Qrow shrugged. "I aim to impress you, Master," he teased, with a sloppy smirk.

"How gratifying," the headmaster said dryly, propping the student upright as he stumbled again. Qrow seemed more intoxicated than he usually was after three whiskeys, his phrasing off from what Ozpin had grown accustomed to, and yet Ozpin dismissed it; the young man's break up had been hard enough on him to expect some new behavior. 

"You're down this way, yes?" he asked instead, directing Qrow at a split corridor. "I do hope you don't walk us into the wrong dorm at this hour."

"You'll just have to see me in to make sure. It's around here somewhere," he gestured nonspecifically in front of the two men. 

“Qrow. You know perfectly well which it is.”

"Down the hall. One of the sides..." came the only hint Qrow offered.

Ozpin shook his head at Qrow's vague directions, smiling nonetheless, their progress down the corridor slow with Qrow's staggering footfalls, the headmaster required to catch him every so often to prevent the student from falling on his face. 

The professor nearly felt guilty for Qrow's irresponsible state, and yet he did not, Qrow's happily unsteady condition a much better option than the isolated angst of the past two days. 

"Do promise me to have a glass of water before bed," Ozpin remarked, looking at the numbers on the dorms. At one point he had known the number of Qrow's dorm, but the memory had been chased off by whiskey. "Or else you'll have something of a rough morning."

"Make me," Qrow challenged with a giggle.

Ozpin merely rolled his eyes.

"'Ere," Qrow said, hooking his fingers on the door frame, which only caught him for a second before he slipped and crashed into the frame. Both men laughed the rare missteps from such a casually drunk student.

“Stay with me,” Qrow said suddenly, turning back to Ozpin.

“I’m certain your teammates would not appreciate my presence in their dorm for longer than is necessary,” the headmaster said, with a fond smile and shake of his head. “You are always welcome to return to my office – in the morning.”

Ozpin expected a sarcastic response, something characteristically smug – but instead, Qrow crashed into Ozpin, his arms around the headmaster, head buried against his chest.

“Thanks,” he said into Ozpin’s jacket.

Ozpin relaxed, bringing his own arms up and around the student, a hand reaching automatically to stroke his hair, as he often did with a mischievous crow.

“Of course,” he whispered.

Another brief squeeze and Qrow released him, turning to fumble with his scroll until the dorm door swung silently open.

Qrow took in the distance to his bunk bed. "I’m the top. I don't think I can make it..."

Ozpin regarded the unstable looking bunk beds in the darkness of the dorm, making a tipsy estimate of the height. He sighed, placing his cane against the side of the bed.

"Try not to step on my face, if you please," he said quietly, kneeling and offering his hands forward, fingers looped together as a foothold. 

Qrow managed to avoid the headmaster's face, but his grip on the top bed was limited to the comforter, the heavy blanket slipping down, enveloping the drunk student and toppling him backwards into Ozpin. The headmaster's careful balance thrown, both men collapsed in a heap beneath the blanket, Qrow cursing on impact.

"Qrow, what the hell - "

The headmaster recognized Taiyang's voice, sighing. _So much for keeping quiet._

A wriggle in the blanket beside him, and then Qrow's slurred, nonchalant reply: "Sup, Tai."

"Are you drunk again?"

Ozpin pulled the comforter from his head to find the lights suddenly on. He shook his head to orient himself after the fall, retrieving the glasses that dangled from the end of his nose.

Taiyang's voice trailed, his eyes falling on the headmaster in disbelief.

"Professor...?" A pause while the student processed the scene before him. 

"Forgive Mr. Branwen," Ozpin said, rising from the floor. "He is, in fact, a bit in his cups. I was merely attempting to see him safely back."

Taiyang shot Qrow a glare. "You got drunk and made the _headmaster_ drag you back?"

Qrow snorted, accepting the hand that Ozpin offered. _"No,"_ he said, with emphasis. "It was his whiskey."

"You stole the headmaster's whiskey?!"

"He offered."

Taiyang looked back at Ozpin, bewildered. "Maybe I should get sent to your office more often."

Ozpin chuckled. "It's not a regular event, I assure you," he said. "I am sorry for waking you, Mr. Xiao Long. Although it seems like Miss Rose is not bothered by our noise."

"Nah," Taiyang said, glancing back at the lump in the bottom bunk that was Summer Rose. "She sleeps like she's in a coma."

Ozpin's eyes flickered to Raven's empty bed, but said nothing. "Well, Qrow, I believe that this is the end of my services tonight, unless there is anything else you require."

"Water?" he reminded the professor.

"I got it!" Taiyang stepped in, clearly not wanting to further trouble the headmaster with such trivial student troubles.

Qrow frowned, but it turned into a yawn as he face-planted into the bed, backside high in the air.

"Gudnigh' Ozp..." he said, voice trailing off.

"I'm sorry, Professor Ozpin. I'll take care of him," Taiyang urgently whispered.

Ozpin restrained a chuckle at Taiyang's expense. 

"Thank you, Mr. Xiao Long," he said. "Please do. Despite his...flaws, I'm rather fond of Mr. Branwen and would prefer to see him in proper shape again soon."

A nod at the nervous student, and the headmaster scooped up the cane from the bedside, making his polite exit. He could hear Taiyang's disbelieving voice as Ozpin closed the door. 

"Did you just call the headmaster by his first name?"

In the corridor, Ozpin allowed himself to laugh, keeping the sound low to prevent it from echoing along the walls of the hall, strolling back to his office and home with the light heart of someone having spent the evening in the company of someone very dear, and of pleasant intoxication.


	17. Epilogue: Faculty Evalutions

**Faculty Evaluation Questionnaire**

What about the professor and his/her teaching is most and least helpful for your learning?  
Briefly explain.  
 _He has good whiskey._

When do you find the professor making him/herself least clearly understood?  
 _When he wants to be cryptic as shit and likes watching you try to figure it out._

When do you feel most intellectually stimulated by this course?  
 _At night._

When are you clearest about what material ought to be in your notes?   
_Depends on who – what I’m studying._

When are you confused about what material ought to be in your notes?  
 _When I have a girlfriend and she distracts me._

When do you feel most convinced that the course is worth your effort?  
 _See Question 1._

When do you feel most certain that the instructor cares whether you succeed in the course?  
 _When he gets me out of trouble._

When do you most want to discuss the material in this course with your peers?   
_I’m not allowed to talk about the material._

With the professor?  
 _See Question 3._

When do you find yourself listening most intently to lecture material in this course?  
 _Does lip service count as listening?_

Which assignments/class activities are least relevant to course objectives and student needs?  
 _Being a good student is overrated._

What challenges are you facing in this class in terms of your learning?  
 _How to keep my hands to myself._

What suggestions do you have to improve the course?  
 _Not keeping my hands to myself?_

What can the professor do better to facilitate your learning?  
 _Put the Kama Sutra in the curriculum._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all _so much_ for sticking with us through three whole (fictional) years!
> 
> We are immensely excited to start Year 4 next weekend! Cheers, and thank you for your continued support. <3


End file.
